I've Been Looking for You Forever
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: AU Blaine Anderson is cruel, hard, unforgiving and abused, and the only thing that brings light to his life is a boy that can't even see it. BadBoy!Blaine Blind!Kurt written for Warblerinfections. M for language, SC and violence.
1. Afraid of the Dark

**-For Warblerinfections. I hope this lives up to your expectations :)-**

**I've Been Looking for You Forever**

1

**Afraid of the Dark**

A boy sits alone on a park bench. The pale sun dances off of his porcelain skin, hair fluttering a little in the breeze. He breathes deeply, an argyle decorated cane beside him. Cerulean eyes seemed to look at the park before him, watching children play and dogs run. A few people passed him, but they went unseen.

The boy was blind.

He slid sunglasses over his eyes, feeling the heat of the sun on his face, knowing his eyes would burn if he kept them exposed to it.

His hands danced over a book in his lap, one covered in dots in a code that only he could understand. He chuckled softly to himself at a line of dialogue. He reached down to his watch, pressing a button.

"Two-thirteen," the watch chimed. He stood, sighing. He tucked the book into his bag, double checking the clasp to make sure it was closed before he stood, walking away. He clicked his tongue in time with the cane in his hand, counting steps in his head.

He heard a few whispers of confused children as he passed, asking their mothers what was wrong with him. He heard cars cruise by, heard a man down the block yell for his son to slow down on his bike.

It was such a nice day.

* * *

><p>Another boy sat alone on his bed. Sirens blared outside this once nice neighborhood, his parents screamed down the hall, much like the rest of the people in this building.<p>

The boy's heart is hardened, hard as stone. Years of screaming, years of abuse from his father, from strangers on the street, years of his mother ignoring the bruises and the beatings, years of fighting himself on who he was, years of going to a school where the boys were just as mean as he was, and years of hurting himself just to have some sort of control had turned him into this.

He was cold, ruthless, jaded and cruel on the outside.

Inside, deep down where he doesn't let anyone get to, not even himself, he's afraid, alone, vulnerable. What he wants more desperately than anything else in the world, is to be loved. Sometimes, when the beating has left him weak and unable to stop himself from feeling, he imagines a boy, sweet, warm and beautiful. He imagines being in his arms, all troubles, bruises and agony melting away with his touch

He was imagining this now as the man he called father stormed inside, grabbing his shirt, shaking him, screaming faggot and backhanding him over and over again with unbelievable force while his mother continued to drink in the living room.

He wiped the blood from under his nose when it was finished, sitting back down, face void of any expression, pain and emotion, save anger, shoved back into the bottle he never opened.

He flipped his phone open, answering an incoming call that couldn't be more unwanted.

"What?" He snapped.

"Chill the fuck out, man. Were we goin' to that shithole tomorrow or not?" Wes asked, voice heavy with sarcasm and amusement.

"Yeah, we're going," he sighed.

"Something wrong?" His friend asked.

"No," he lied. "I'm fine."

Blaine Anderson hung up, staring down at his hands, wincing softly as a bottle crashed against the wall, screaming ensuing.

It was an awful night.

* * *

><p>The blind boy walked along happily, being sure to keep track of where he was, knowing he had to be careful in this unfamiliar part of town.<p>

Several things happened all at once.

The boy whose father had been yelling at him to slow down sped past, nicking Kurt's elbow and spinning him around while a jogger passed on his right, a car horn blared, tires screeching for a brief moment, his feet tangling up in themselves causing him to fall.

He took several slow, deep breaths, palms skinned. He hastily snatched up his cane, clicking softly to try and hear where he was.

He could sense the buildings and the people around him most likely staring. But…but nothing else was familiar. Turned around, disoriented and now frightened in the dark, Kurt Hummel was lost.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, what the hell are we doing here?"<p>

The boy chuckled, shaking his curls out of his face. "Shut the fuck up, Wes. Just trust me."

"This place is a fucking cow town," Jeff complained.

"Yeah? Well our competition's here. We might as well check out what little bitches we have to beat," he replied.

"What are they called again?" Nick asked.

"Nude Erections," Jeff giggled. Blaine smacked his arm.

"Dumbass."

"Hey," Thad said, grinning and gesturing across the street. "Check it out."

Blaine looked, adjusting his jacket. He froze.

A boy. A beautiful, soft boy walked down the sidewalk across the street. He was clicking his tongue, a slightly panicked look on his face, tapping the cane in his hand almost frantically. Blaine guessed he had a fast paced song stuck in that pretty head of his.

"Looks like he's on your team, Blaine," David teased, elbowing his ribs.

"Shut up," he said, chuckling lightly.

"How about we go say hi?" Wes grinned, crossing the street and heading toward him. Blaine frowned.

He didn't want that. For some strange reason, he wanted them to leave this angelic boy alone. He wasn't sure why he felt this way, but the last thing he wanted was to bother him. He wanted to leave him in this untouchable state of beauty. But Wes and the others were barreling toward him, laughing.

"Hey, buddy," Thad grinned, mocking him. The boy froze.

"Cool shades," Trenton remarked, plucking them from his face. "Mind if I try them on?"

"Please." His voice was celestial too; a soft, sweet bell that made Blaine's usually stony heart warm. "Please, I don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to get home."

He didn't look at them as he spoke. He didn't look at anything. He squinted against the peeking sunlight, gripping the cane in his hand, almost whimpering when Thad took it away.

"What's this for, Grandma?" He snorted

"Leave me alone!" He begged.

Blaine took the situation in. The sunglasses, the cane, his unseeing eyes…

"Fuck," he breathed. "Guys, stop." They went on taunting, not hearing his demand. "KNOCK IT OFF!"

"Dude, what's wrong?" Wes asked. The angel was pressed against the wall of the building, chest shaking as he tried to breathe, eyes filled with frightened tears.

"He's blind," he hissed. David snorted.

"So what?" The boy made the same frightened noise again. Blaine's stomach boiled for reasons unknown.

"'_So__what_?' Are you really that fucked in the head? Get away from him!" He shoved him back, snatching the sunglasses from Trent. "Go to the fucking school. I'll meet you there later."

"Blai-"

"GO!" He snarled. "Or I'll kick your ass right here, right now!"

"Okay, okay," Flynn said, holding up his hands and backing away. "We're goin'. Sorry we scared you."

"_Princess,_" Jeff added under his breath. They sauntered away, leaving an irrationally angry Blaine behind them.

He looked at the angel, pressing the cane into his hand, waiting for him to relax. "Sorry about them. They're…they're assholes."

"Are you going to hurt me too?" He asked shakily, still afraid.

"No," Blaine assured, keeping an edge in his voice. "No, I won't." He looked around. "Where are you trying to go?"

"My house," he squeaked.

"Which, um…" He was nervous. Why the fuck was he nervous? "Where do you live?"

Kurt was blushing, frustrated tears in his eyes. He blamed that damn kid on his bike for all of this.

"Where are we now?" He whispered, hating himself for relying on this rugged stranger. He could smell cigarettes lingering on his jacket, which was leather, he assumed by the coolness of the material he felt near his arm. He smelled cologne, too. Old Spice, maybe, hair gel and bubblegum. For the most ridiculous of reasons, he found the aroma almost intoxicating.

"107th and Ballard," he said. Kurt swallowed, trying to blink the tears away.

"North," he breathed.

"Okay," Blaine nodded. He reached for his hand, having to grab his left due to the cane in his right. "C'mon, I'll take you."

Kurt stopped short as he tried to guide him. "I don't even know your name," he breathed.

"I'm Blaine."

"Kurt."

The angel had a name. For the first time in years, literally years, Blaine smiled.

**-Reviews are welcomed and loved! Tell me what you think!-**


	2. Candles

2

**Candles**

Kurt was wary of this boy. If he was as mean as his friends then there was no telling what he'd do to him.

"Oh, here," he said, putting his sunglasses back on his face. He jumped, still shaken from before. "Sorry!" Blaine said, chastising himself for forgetting about his inability to see.

There was genuine quality to his voice behind the initial chill that he emitted. His hand on his was gentle, calloused, but gentle. He could feel the edges of cuts on his knuckles from fighting. He was sure his eyes were as cold as the first layer of his voice, and he wondered what the rest of him might look like.

He didn't know what this boy, Blaine, wanted with him, or what his angle was, but he wanted to know more.

"So," he ventured, going forth on his mission. "Do you go to McKinley?"

"No. Dalton Academy. In Westerville," he said gruffly.

_Great, __I__'__m __being __taken __home __by __a __criminal,_ he thought. He could downplay him all he wanted, but there…there was a certain, something that this boy named Blaine that wore leather that smelled like bubblegum and cigarettes that made him want to stay with him and keep his hand in his.

Blaine seemed to be something wonderful. He shook his head, realizing he had been speaking. "What?"

"I said, where do you go?" He said. Kurt sensed a smirk.

"McKinley," he stated, anticipating the scoff that followed.

"Um, how do you-?"

"Just because I can't see like everyone else can doesn't mean I can't keep up academically," he snapped, agitated and blushing. "I order my textbooks in Braille, there's a padlock on my locker and I don't take gym class, _okay_?" He growled.

"Whoa, sorry," Blaine said, trying to shrug off the guilt he felt for embarrassing him. He kept it far from his voice. "Just curious. No need to go all bitch-mode." Kurt's scowl deepened.

"If you heard every teacher, classmate and adult you _ever_ came in contact with _ever_ say the exact same thing to you, you'd be a little testy too," he spat. He was fuming now, wishing he could walk away, but he had no idea where he was still. "What street are we on?" He demanded.

"Um, Cherry," he replied.

"Facing which way?"

"North."

"Which side?"

"Left."

"Alright, then, _Blaine_," he said firmly, angry, "I can find my way from here. Thank you for humiliating me and pretending to help me." He started to leave. Blaine grabbed his hand to stop him.

"Hey, whoa, wait a second," he pleaded. _You __can__'__t __go. __Not __yet, __I __just __met __you. __I __want __to __know __more, __I __want __to __know __everything __about __you. __You __can__'__t __go __yet._ He cleared his throat, removing the vulnerabilities. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you, okay? I'm sorry I made you mad, I really am." Kurt frowned, determined.

"I don't believe you," he said.

"What can I do to make you believe me?" He asked, exasperated.

Suddenly Kurt put his hands on his face, fingertips at the corners of his mouth, eyes and on his cheeks. "Say it again," he demanded.

"What are you-?"

"Just, let me do this okay?" He said. "Say it again, please."

"I'm sorry I made you mad. I'm so very, very sorry. I wasn't trying to humiliate you or anything, I wasn't," he said.

Kurt could see when he needed to. Right now he could see a lot of things. He saw Blaine's smooth skin and curly hair, dark maybe, but that was just a hunch. He saw the smoothness of his lips and…and the sincerity of his words. Kurt could see Blaine then, see his face. There were holes he had to fill in, of course, but he could see him and the truth.

"Okay," he breathed, slowly taking his hands away. "I believe you." Blaine smiled again, surprising himself. He was so unused to this…

"Can I take you home, still?" He asked, his voice caught between demand and permission. Kurt nodded, deciding to grant him it. "Cool."

* * *

><p>Burt frowned, watching his son come up with a boy that he didn't know…an angry looking boy with a fixed expression of anger and cockiness. His brown leather jacket was worn, tight white shirt smudged with grease from what he assumed was some sort of dangerous motorcycle. A cigarette hung from his lips, knuckles injured, a cross hanging around his neck.<p>

_Well, __I __suppose __even __dirt-bags __need __religion__…_ he thought venomously. His main interest is what this off-the-beaten-track boy was doing with his son.

"Thank you," Kurt said softly, looking at him, well…in his direction. Blaine shrugged, keeping his cool.

"No problem." The pale angel started to walk away. "Hey, wait!" He said, taking his arm. "Um, can I see you again sometime?"

Kurt paused, his heart stopping, cheeks red and hot. Did…did he just…

_He just asked…asked me out…didn't he?_

"What?" He squeaked.

Blaine looked at him, at his soft skin and hair, his lips and…and so much more.

"Um, do…can I see you again?" He repeated, trying not to sound eager or desperate.

So he _had_ heard him correctly. "Um, I, uh..."

Blaine shook his head. _Look __at __yourself_, he thought, reopening old wounds. _Why __would __anyone __want _you_? __Especially __someone __like _him_?_ "It's alright," he sighed. "It's fine. You don't have to if you don't want to. It's cool." He moved away, turning. He grabbed his hand.

"Wait," he said, knowing full and well his father was probably watching him this very moment. "I do." Blaine's eyes grew.

"You do?"

"Uh huh," he cooed.

"Um," he smiled, flicking his cigarette away. "I was gonna come up this way tomorrow…if you wanna hang out?" He tried to sound cool, slick and smooth and detached.

"Were you going to the school?" He asked.

"Uh huh."

"Then you can meet me outside," he mumbled. "If you want."

"Kurt!" His father called.

"Definitely."

"Okay," he was smiling again.

"Kurt!"

"I'm coming!" He said. Blaine glanced at the door. "Bye, Blaine," the angel grinned. Blaine's heart jumped in his chest.

"See ya, Kurt."

Kurt counted his way to the door, hearing Blaine's hesitant retreating footsteps on the grass. He passed his father without pause, smiling to himself.

"Who was that?" Burt demanded, his instincts to protect his son taking over.

"A friend," Kurt said softly, hanging up his jacket.

"What kind of friend?"

"Not sure yet." He could hear the euphoria in his voice, and that worried him a little.

"Kurt," he sighed. "I don't know if I want you hanging around someone like that."

"Someone like what?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You know what I'm talking about," he said firmly. Kurt sighed.

"He's just a nice boy that took me home after I got lost in the park," he explained. "I don't see why I shouldn't be allowed to be around him." Burt sighed, arms folded and nostrils flaring. Kurt heard his deep breathing. He patted his father's shoulder.

"It's alright, Dad. I'm alright. Don't worry," he smiled and went upstairs.

* * *

><p>"I told you, I want to Lima with the guys!" He defended, unable to block the next blows to his face. His father grabbed his collar, yanking him around and slamming him into the wall and getting in his face.<p>

"Don't you _fucking_ lie to me, you little bastard!" He screamed, alcohol strewn breath assaulting him. "Which one of your fuck buddies did you see huh? Who'd you fuck, faggot?" Blaine shoved him away.

"I didn't!" He snarled, blood on his lips. "It's none of your fucking business what I did!"

"DON'T YOU BACK TALK ME, BOY!"

* * *

><p>He went back to his room, beaten and shaky.<p>

In a perfect world somewhere, tonight would have been much different. "I met a guy today, Dad," he would say. "He's perfect and beautiful and I've never seen anyone like him before."

"That's great, Blaine," his father would reply. "I'm happy for you."

But no.

He bowed his head, heart heavy, body aching. He'd had worse, yes…but he wasn't sure how much he could endure before he broke.

He covered his face, a tear slipping down his cheek.

He hoped it would be better tomorrow.


	3. Spotlight

3

**Spotlight**

"Dude, what the fuck happened to you?" Thad asked, looking him over. Blaine shook his head, smirking.

"You should see the other guy," he chuckled.

The Warblers knew better. Blaine didn't get into fights often, he usually intimidated the other guy –or guys- out of it despite his below average height, but when he did he usually left without a scratch. The only person that could Blaine like this was his old man.

"What'd you guys find out last night?" Blaine asked, feeling his eye throb.

"Nude Erections didn't have rehearsal, but some broad was practicing anyway," Jeff said.

"She's good," Nick nodded. "She looks funny when she sings, though."

"Big fuckin' mouth," Wes laughed, David and Thad nodding.

"Dressed like she's four."

"Or eighty!"

"Alright, shut up," he sighed. "I get it. I'm gonna go again tonight."

"Want us to come with?" Flynn offered.

"No," he said too quickly. "Uh, no. They won't recognize me. if anyone sees you again they'll know. I'll go alone."

The ruffian singers exchanged glances.

"You're seeing that blind queer from yesterday, aren't you?" Thad demanded.

"Watch your mouth," he snapped. "And it's none of your fucking business what I'm doin'. I'm goin' to see what this Glee club can do, okay?"

"Okay, okay."

Blaine knew they didn't believe him, as they shouldn't, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything except seeing Kurt again.

* * *

><p>"Who was that guy you were with yesterday?" Finn asked. Kurt frowned.<p>

"Why is that any of your business?" He wondered, closing his locker and heading to class.

"Because he doesn't look like the kind of guy you would hang out with…or want to hang out with," he said. Kurt pursed his lips, angry.

"My personal life isn't your business, Finn."

"It is when it looks like someone's taking advantage of you," he said, trying to prove his point.

"Finn, I can take care of myself," he assured. "You haven't even talked to him."

"Look, _Puck_ said he was a bad guy. He knew him in juvie and _he_ scares _him_!" He spat, frustrated.

"If Puck thinks so, then he can talk to me himself. I don't think there's anything wrong with Blaine other than people tend to judge him too quickly. He stuck up for me when his friends were harassing me and helped me get home," he explained. "Someone who can do that is nothing but brave. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to French." He flounced away, skillfully dodging a jock that stuck his foot out to trip him as he went.

* * *

><p>"Maybe he's not coming," Kurt sighed.<p>

"Kurt, it's only been thirty seconds," Rachel assured, patting his shoulder. "What does he look like, again?"

"Dreamy, I'd imagine," he giggled. He shook his head. "Um, curly hair, about two inches shorter than me…"

"Big eyes and a grumpy disposition?" She asked.

"Is he smoking?"

"Mmhm."

"That's him."

"He's coming up to us?" He gasped.

"Uh huh. Your night in shining leather has come to take you away to slums unknown," she said, smiling.

"Don't make fun."

Rachel's smile faded. "He's hurt." Kurt frowned, suddenly worried…worried for someone he barely knew.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine said, trying not to sound as happy as he felt. The beating from his father was worth seeing him again.

He was just as beautiful as yesterday, but in different, yet equally adorable clothes.

Rachel was almost gawking at this new boy who was smoking on _school __grounds_ right where teachers could see him without blinking with a black eye and a split lip and a cut on his cheek. She jumped when his angry eyes flicked to hers.

"You gonna keep staring, little girl, or are you gonna go back to recess with the rest of the first graders?" He asked, unappreciative of her treating him as a sideshow attraction. She scowled.

"I'll see you in rehearsal, Kurt," she spat, stalking away.

"That was rude," Kurt frowned.

"I don't like being stared at by some chick I don't know like it's a zoo," he defended. "She was rude first."

Kurt sighed, nodding. "She does that." He cleared his throat. "I have rehearsal until four thirty."

"Cool. I'll take you to dinner when you're done," he said, no questions asked. Kurt's initial reaction was to agree to anything he said. But he paused a moment, listening to his tone. He'd done this before, demanded a date instead of acting like the gentleman that Kurt knew was in there somewhere. He wouldn't have been so helpful if he wasn't.

He swallowed, determined. "No." He could almost hear Blaine's thoughts stumble over each other.

"N-no?" He stammered. "But, you said yesterday-"

"I said I would hang out with you. You said nothing about dinner," he corrected.

"So, what do you want to do?" He grumped, heart still pounding at the fear of Kurt not wanting anything to do with him.

"I want to get to know you better," the angel explained. "Then I'll decide whether I want to go to dinner with you or not. You may be used to every other guy you ask out falling all over your fake, cocky charm, but unlike them, I can see right through you." He said it so firmly and with such defined faith that Blaine didn't question. He could bet by the end of the night Kurt would know him better than anyone.

_What if he doesn't like me? What if he doesn't give me a chance like everyone else?_

"I should get to rehearsal," Kurt said, reaching for his hand. "You can come spy if you want." Blaine frowned.

"How'd you know I was in the Warblers?" He blanched. Kurt grinned.

"I didn't, you just told me." Blaine smirked.

_Cheeky bastard._

* * *

><p>"Kurt, who is that?" Quinn asked.<p>

"Who?" Puck said, peering into the audience.

"Yeah, he's not," Santana grinned.

"He's _gay_ Santana," Kurt grumbled. "And he's just a friend." Finn scoffed. Puck's eyes grew.

"Kurt, dude-"

"Okay, guys," Mr. Schue interrupted. "Let's get goin'."

* * *

><p>It took Blaine a moment to move after they had stopped. He was watching Kurt, just staring at him with his mouth open, astounded. If this boy was more angelic he'd have wings and a halo. The way he sang was…was just so beautiful that it made his heart hurt.<p>

He finally stood up, shaking his head to come back to himself as he headed over to him.

"Hey, over here!" He called, ignoring the other teens glaring at him. Kurt turned in his direction, smiling and chugging a bottle of water. "That was great."

"Thank you," he said, smiling softly.

"I didn't know your range was that…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Just, wow." Kurt blushed. "You wanna go chill at a park or something?"

"Yes, I do," the angel smiled.

* * *

><p>"Do you mind if we talk about you now?" Blaine asked gently. The night was cool and getting cooler as it went on. The stars and the moon gleamed above their heads. He watched the soft glow dancing off of Kurt's porcelain skin, illuminating every feature, his eyes sparkling.<p>

He made it hard for Blaine to breathe, especially when he turned to look at him.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to talk about myself," he said simply. Kurt frowned a little.

"You sound sad," he remarked. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Kurt touched his face. He sighed. "I'm fine."

"Liar." Blaine smacked his hands away.

"I don't wanna talk about myself, what don't you get about that?" He growled. Kurt flinched away, hurt and slightly confused.

"Okay," he squeaked. Blaine sighed, cursing himself and softening.

"Hey," he said gently, taking his hand. "It's just not the happiest thing to talk about, okay? I want to talk about you. I want to hear more about you."

"You should be like this more often," Kurt said, unable to stop himself from memorizing what Blaine's calloused, gentle hand on his felt like.

"You like nice?" He asked. Kurt nodded. Blaine cleared his throat, unsure why he was always so tongue-tied around this boy. "I'll, um, I'll work on that." Kurt blushed again.

"Can I ask you a question?" He said softly.

"Yeah."

"Why do you want to be around me so much?" He wondered. Now Blaine was pink and glad that he couldn't see him.

"I-I don't know. I just do," he shrugged. "It's not because I feel sorry for you or anything, don't think that. I just…"

"You don't?"

"No."

"And you're not doing it as a joke, like because I'm ugly or something?" Blaine stared at him, incredulous.

"You're not ugly," he said frankly. Kurt chewed his lip, staring at his lap.

"No one's ever said that before."

Blaine looked at their hands, then at his face.

"They should."

* * *

><p>Blaine did talk about himself, avoiding the subject of parents. A part from that he told this boy he barely knew everything he wanted to know, something he'd never allowed before.<p>

"I'm not much on football," he shrugged. "My love affair for scarves kind of takes away from anything else." Blaine laughed. He _laughed_.

"I like your laugh," Kurt smiled. Blaine frowned.

"It's just a laugh."

"I know. But yours is nice." Blaine swallowed, suddenly nervous, mouth dry, palms wet.

"I like yours to," he admitted. "I…I like you." Kurt blushed. "Would you like to go to dinner with me Friday night?"

Kurt smiled. _Now __that__'__s __much __better,_ he thought.

"Yes I would," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He heard the slight wavering in Blaine's voice when he asked, which made him feel better about his own tremble.

Blaine grinned, looking away, embarrassed. "Are you smiling?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah," he muttered, still blushing.

"Can I see?" He asked, holing up a hand. Blaine's smile grew.

"Of course."

Kurt gently touched his face with his fingertips.

He saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, felt his cheeks plump high on his face. He felt the dimples that spread from his lips, mouth curling is soft lips up.

"What color are your eyes?" He whispered.

"Brown. Like caramel, though. Not shit." Kurt laughed, still holding his face.

"And your hair?"

"Dark brown. Almost black."

"Your skin?"

"I'm Italian if that helps." He nodded.

"It does." Kurt's eyes were closed, a small smile on his beautiful face as he continued to ghost over his features. He felt the bulge of his Adam's apple, the sharp angle of his jaw, and the small curve in his nose.

"I can see you," he grinned. "I can see you." Blaine looked at him, still grinning.

"Like Daredevil," he remarked.

"Huh?"

"Daredevil, the superhero?" He urged. Kurt's smile grew.

"I can live with that," he said softly. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"I'm touching your face, you can ask me anything you want."

"Have…have you ever had a boyfriend before?" Kurt paused, a wave of pain flashing over his face. He took his hands away.

"No," he whispered. "I've never had anyone _interested_ before either." Blaine frowned, a pang going to his heart, something he hadn't allowed in years. He looked at him, at this beautiful, sweet angelic boy and wondering why on earth someone hadn't seen him sooner.

"I don't understand how."

The angel laughed ruefully.

"I'm blind, effeminate and gay. I'm kind of a specific type. Not a lot of people want to deal with my disability, let alone the amazing fashion sense and I sound like Judy Garland," he said softly. "I've given my heart to people before and never got anything in return. I'm just waiting, I guess."

Blaine squeezed his hand, wanting to know who hurt him so he could kill them later. "You don't have to wait anymore."

He surprised himself, freezing and paling. "I…" He searched Kurt's face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He was looking at nothing, tears in his eyes.

Blaine took a deep breath, pecking his cheek and standing.

"I'll take you home." Kurt looked up at him, standing with him and trying to keep his breathing under control.

"Okay." He snuck in his own kiss on the cheek before he started to walk.

A strange feeling swelled inside Blaine that he didn't quite recognize. Most people would call it happiness.

-More soon!-


	4. Sparks Fly

4

**Sparks Fly**

Blaine took a drag from his cigarette, sighing and closing his eyes. He leaned his head back against the brick, collar popped against the November wind and wondering how long it would take the teachers inside to figure out the Warblers weren't in the choir room.

"So," Thad said, his voice cracking through the silence. "You guys fuck yet?" The boys laughed, but It quickly died away as Blaine shot him a glare dark enough to blot out the sun.

"None of your goddamn business," he snarled. "And don't talk about him like that."

"Why?" Trent asked.

"Because I fuckin' said so, that's why!" He barked.

"Touchy, huh?" Nick chuckled. Blaine reached across the alley, grabbing his collar and wrenching him forward.

"You wanna see how touchy I can get?" He growled before tossing him away. "What the fuck is wrong with you guys?"

"Wrong with us, what's wrong with you?" Jeff asked. "You're all, _grr_!"

"Yeah what's up with you, man?"

"I'm fine," he spat.

"Yeah? Tell that to your face," Wes said, gesturing to the cuts and bruises.

"Just shut the fuck up, and don't talk about Kurt like that or I'll bash your fucking faces in," he said, tone nonchalant.

They knew better than to do that. They knew not to talk about Blaine's personal life, _ever_. Bringing up those bruises was bringing up his mom and dad, and that was the quickest way to piss him off and cause him to literally crack skulls.

However, they didn't know why he got so pissed about Kurt. He barely knew the guy. Blaine didn't get attached, especially to people he was trying to lay. They were confused.

"How'd that deal go last night?" Wes asked, turning to David, who grinned and patted his pocket.

"Let's just say Davey's gettin' a new pair of shoes," he laughed. "Or twelve!" They laughed; even Blaine cracked a smile. "Cocaine is a lucrative business, my man."

"That's funny, your mom said the something about her business at my house last night." Another rousing roar of laughter while David took a swing at Nick's head.

Blaine was lost in his own world, smoking contentedly, thinking. He felt foolish for feeling so giddy and happy about seeing Kurt tonight, but he did. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the though of hearing his voice again and watching his beautiful face all night. He'd never been a big fan of Breadstix. Hell the only time he had to go in there was to tear some of his friends out of a massive fight before the cops showed up.

But it was classy without coming on too strong, but not some fast-food dive to make him look cheap or like he didn't care. Unlike the other guys he'd been with. None of them had been steady deals, no. More like one-time things that you screw around for a night and then you're done.

He didn't want that with Kurt. He didn't want to feel like he was using him like that, or be used like that, which is what he was used to. No, he wanted something deeper, something better. He wanted to stay with Kurt for a long time, in fact he never wanted Kurt to be away from him. He wanted to know that he'd be around forever… It confused him, feeling this way. He wished he could have had these feelings for someone before now, that way he'd have some gauge on what to do, how to react, and how to behave toward Kurt.

The prospects of being with him scared him, and excited him. On one hand he wanted nothing more than to hold him close, touch his soft skin and listen to him breathe for the rest of his life. On the other, he wanted to push him away and get away from this boy that forced him to feel, forced his heart out, forced his blood to rush and his mouth to spit out things that were meant to stay in his head.

"Hey, earth to Blaine!" Trent said, waving his hand in front of him. He smacked it away.

"What?"

"Are you seeing that Lima loser again tonight or not?" Nick demanded. Blaine slapped the back of his head.

"Don't fucking talk about him like that, not a hard concept. And yeah, I am. Problem?" They shook their heads. He flicked his dead cigarette away, turning. "We need to actually rehearse. Sectionals are comin' up." He stalked away.

They looked at each other, wondering why their fearless leader was putting himself through this for a blind kid that would only turn him away and hurt him later on. Guys like Mr. Lima didn't stay with guys like Blaine. They had their bad boy fix and left, not wanting the trouble and baggage they had. They used things they had done in the past as an excuse for it.

So the Warblers watched Blaine walk away, wondering how long it would be before his heart was broken…again.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Kurt, can I talk to you?" Puck asked, setting his tray down beside him at the lunch table.<p>

"I'm not singing for donations again, Puckerman," he sighed. "I think people are starting to figure out there's no 'Lima's Place for Kids Who Can't See.'"

"No, that's not it," he explained. "Now, just hear me out 'til I finish, okay?" He nodded. "That guy you were with yesterday, his name's Blaine Anderson. He's been to juvie ten times since he was thirteen, and he's been in for _everything_. Drugs, drinking, fighting, smoking, resisting arrest, running away, stealing, you name it. Remember that kid who kept taking my waffles? That's him. He's bad news, Kurt, and that's coming from _me_. I think he's trying to take advantage of you to help him rob another convenient store or something. I want you to be safe 'cause you're my friend and all this guy's gonna do is hurt you."

Kurt waited a beat before answering. "Have you ever actually spoken to him?" Puck sighed.

"No."

"Ever take the time to get to know him while he was swiping your Eggo's?"

"No."

"Then how do you know what he's really like?" He asked gently. Puck sighed.

"Kurt, from what I've seen, I'm telling you he's a bad guy."

"Then let me figure it out for myself, please," he said shortly, standing to put his tray away. Puck helped him along, trying to save him from being tripped or slushied. He'd seen it happen too many times.

"If you get into trouble, you know you can call me, right?" He assured, trying to convey to his friend how worried he was without saying it outright.

"Yes, Noah. Thank you."

* * *

><p>"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Blaine cursed, weaving in and out of traffic on his bike. He was late. That son of a bitch cop pulling him over for no damn reason and giving him every fucking question in the book as if he'd done something wrong and made him late.<p>

He couldn't afford to screw this up. What if he wouldn't go out with him now? He'd tried to call him and left a few voicemails but he didn't pick up. God, was he mad at him?

He skidded to a stop in the driveway, plucking up the helmet he'd brought for Kurt and bolted to the front door. He knocked, running a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself.

A tall kid answered the door, his face stern, determined to be angry. "Can I help you?" Blaine looked up at him, unfazed and ready to plow through him if that's what it took.

"I'm here to pick up Kurt," he said, voice level.

"I don't think he wants to talk to you right now," he said. Blaine was slowly sizing him up, seeing which kind of intimidation he'd have to use on this clown.

"I think you'd better tell him I'm here and let me talk to him before this gets messy," he growled. Finn straightened up, looming over him.

"Are you threatening me?"

Blaine glared at him. "I'm _advising _you," he said darkly.

"Finn, damn it!" Kurt barked, shoving him out of the way with difficulty. "I told you to tell me if he got here."

Once again, Kurt managed to take his breath away.

He looked amazingly beautiful. His coat was white, thick cotton with big silver buttons. His shirt was black, hanging low on his neck with those impossibly tight pants that buttoned up the side, a thick gray scarf draped around his neck. He was flawless as usual, but there was something about the light, or maybe it was just seeing him again that made his heart pound.

"Where were you?" He demanded, genuinely angry.

"I got pulled over. I wasn't speeding or anything, I'd just started the damn engine when he pulled up. Asshole gave me a hard time and I was late and I'm _so_ sorry," he said very quickly. _Don__'__t __go, __don__'__t __go, __don__'__t __go __please._

"Did we lose our reservation?" He said softly.

"No, I called them and they moved us back. If we leave now we can make it," he assured. He paused, lips pursed, evaluating. "I tried to call!" He blurted, trying to make an appeal. "But, but your phone's off."

"Oh…" He chewed his lip, guilty.

"I'll go, but…but this is strike one," he warned. Blaine's heart skipped.

_Don__'__t __fuck __up __again, __asshole_! He chastised.

"There won't be a strike two, I promise," he said, shaking his head.

"Okay," he held out his hand expectantly. Blaine smiled, taking it and guiding him down the stairs. "'Bye, Dad!" He called, shutting the door quickly. "Now let's hurry up before he sees the bike. You brought a-"

He gently put the helmet on him, clasping it carefully. "Helmet for you?" He finished, smiling a little. "C'mon Daredevil."

* * *

><p>Kurt positively squealed with laughter, holding onto Blaine's waist as tightly as he could as they sped down the road. The cold wind slapped his cheeks and froze his fingers but he didn't care. It was amazing, exhilarating and slightly scary to think that his life was in the hands of this boy and a very small metal vehicle. He leaned into Blaine's back, grinning from ear-to-ear, excited that he got to do this again on the way home.<p>

Blaine couldn't stop smiling, listening to Kurt laugh because of something he was causing. Hearing that laugh was probably the best thing in the world.

He sighed, disappointed when he saw the restaurant, pulling the bike into a spot. Kurt sighed, winded. He carefully helped Kurt off the bike, gently taking off the helmet and wondering how he managed to avoid helmet hair.

"Is it bad?" Kurt asked, blushing and fussing with it.

"No," he chuckled. "Your hair's perfect."

They became suddenly aware of how close they were, as well as Blaine's steadying hands on his waist. He swallowed.

"We should get inside," he whispered, but didn't pull away. Kurt nodded but also remained still.

"Yeah."

Kurt's arms slipped around him, resting his body against him, head on his chest, hugging him. Blaine's heart jumped, feeling his warmth and smelling his skin. He hugged him back, resting his cheek against the top of his head. The two forgot everything in this wonderful, accidental moment. They stayed wrapped in each other's arms in the cold night air, content. Nothing had ever felt more…more _right_ in their lives than this, this right here. A simple, extraordinary, soft, sharp, beautiful moment. But what really made it so magical, so amazingly serene was neither of the two had been held before; the pale angel by another boy, the dark haired sinner by anyone.

Kurt was breathing slowly, forcing himself to. He was so absorbed in Blaine, in his neck and his chest. He felt the beating of his heart, the swirling smell of his skin and cologne with the underlying hint of some was pleasant, soothing, hypnotizing. He was so enraptured he didn't hear him speak.

"Kurt?" Blaine urged, wondering if he'd fallen asleep. The blind boy looked up, pulling away as if he'd overstayed his welcome. Blaine ached at the lack of contact, his skin cooling already from the lack of Kurt's warmth.

"Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed. Blaine righted his scarf, fingers grazing his cheek.

"I think we should go inside now," he said. Kurt, pinked, nodded again, his tongue too swollen and dry to speak.

* * *

><p>Dinner was wonderful. There were no awkward pauses, no forced small-talk. They laughed and joked and smiled. Kurt found out Blaine was a lot more knowledgeable as far as "Things fays have to know to survive" than he originally gave him credit for.<p>

They talked about everything, clothes, music, movies, theatre, Prop. Eight, "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," food, everything.

Kurt was correct in thinking there was a lot more to Blaine than met the eye.

Crime found its way into the conversation, a subject Blaine knew so well he discussed laws and loopholes in them that Kurt had no clue about.

"How many times have you been arrested?" Kurt asked. Blaine frowned, slightly ashamed.

"More than I'd like to admit," he said truthfully. "Sometimes I did something wrong, other times I was around and convenient."

Kurt nodded. "Do, um…do you do drugs?" He wondered, hoping he wasn't insulting him.

"I have before, but I'd rather drink," he said, sincere. "I try not to, though. I'm a stupid drunk."

_He__'__s __gonna __keep __asking __until __he __finds __something __to __leave __me __for,_ he thought, despaired.

Kurt did keep asking. "How involved are you in that whole mess?"

"Drugs?" Kurt nodded. "I play middle-man from time-to-time for my friends, but I don't use. I've tried all that shit, and I don't like it." _Don__'__t __go._

"And you've been to juvie?"

Blaine swallowed, nervous. "Ten times for just about everything." He nodded. "Drinking, joy-riding, vandalism, stealing-"

"What'd you steal?"

"A candy bar," Blaine snorted. Kurt looked at him.

"I know what you sound like when you lie," he cautioned. Blaine sighed.

"Okay, a candy bar, three shirts, a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of Coke and a carton of cigarettes," he stated. "All in one trip." He expected Kurt to be horrified. However, Kurt laughed.

"Oh my God!" He giggled. "Did you get _out_ with all of it?" Blaine beamed.

"Yeah! They caught me on camera a week later," he explained.

"How old were you?" He chortled.

"Fifteen," he said, still smiling. Kurt shook his head, grinning.

"Wow, I mean, I'm not condoning your behavior or anything, but wow."

The two fell silent. Blaine was looking at his hands, his heart heavy.

"I've done some really bad things, Kurt," he whispered. "I've hurt people, good and bad. I've been with a lot of guys, and the last thing I deserve is someone as amazing and pure as you. Your parents will hate me, your friends will hate me and it'll be difficult for you. They'll make your life Hell."

"What are you trying to convince me of?" Kurt said softly.

"That you need to end this now, before you do something you regret. I don't want to make your life harder."

Kurt reached across the table, taking Blaine's hand in his, smiling gently. "I've gone ten years without being able to see a damn thing. I learned how to read Braille, use echo location, dress myself, walk from one place to another, write, eat and know if someone's sneaking up on me. I had to re-learn how to live my life when I was only eight years-old. I think I can handle you." Blaine smiled, tightening their hand's embrace.

It was the first time he'd held hands, too.


	5. Looking Deeper

5

**Looking Deeper**

Taking Kurt home was the hardest thing Blaine had ever had to do. He didn't want Kurt to go, if he had it his way he'd keep him with him for the rest of his life, just to hear that gentle bell that was his voice speak so softly, so gently, or keep holding his hand. He never thought something like that could be so pleasant, but he wanted to do it again. Which was probably why his fingers were linked in Kurt's as he walked him up to his front door.

"I had an amazing time," Kurt said, smiling at him. Blaine grinned.

"Good. I'm glad. I had a good time too," he said, keeping his voice steady. His heart was thundering, eyes flicking to his lips, wondering if this was a good time to do this. "So, there's this party next weekend and…and I was wondering if you'd like to go…with me." Kurt smiled, nodding.

"Yes, I'd love to go," he said softly. Blaine took another step closer to him, still trying to breathe properly.

Kurt could hear how fast he was breathing. He realized then what Blaine was thinking about doing. He felt his mouth go dry.

"I'll, uh, I'll see you then." Kurt frowned. He didn't want to wait that long to see him again.

"I can't see you sooner?" He wondered. Blaine felt him self blush, his hands sweating.

"Uh, I, um, I can come see you after school Monday. We can go to the Lima Bean and get some coffee," he suggested. Kurt beamed, still amazed that he was holding hands with a boy that thought he was good-looking and was stumbling over his words trying to talk to him.

"Okay." Blaine was so close, his warmth spreading over him.

"Can I…Kurt, can I kiss you?" He breathed. Kurt nodded, trying not to shake. He shut his eyes, waiting. Blaine took a deep breath, leaning forward and so desperate to touch those plump, pink lips.

He brushed against his skin when the door opened.

The boys jumped away from each other, both equally as disappointed and crestfallen.

"Sorry," Burt said, his tone false. "Heard some noise, wasn't sure what it was." Blaine scowled at the floor. Kurt wilted.

"I'll see you, Kurt," he mumbled, hopping off the stairs and heading to his bike.

"Bye," Kurt said softly. He flinched a little when the bike roared to life and he drove off. He turned, stalking into the house. "Thanks, Dad."

"What did I do?" He asked following him inside, defensive.

"Never mind!" He stormed up the stairs, tears in his eyes. Burt followed him.

"Why didn't you tell me he drove a motorcycle? That thing could get you killed!" He said sternly. Kurt shook his head.

"Dad, I don't care if you like what he drives or not, okay?" He sighed, exasperated. He'd been so close to getting his first kiss, from someone amazing and sweet, and his dad had to go and ruin it.

"I don't like this guy, Kurt. He's bad news, I can tell."

Kurt shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You know what he is?" He said through gritted teeth. "He's sweet, he's smart, he's funny and his life has been utter hell. But he likes me. He's nice to me. He doesn't think I'm too lady-like, he's actually gay, and he thinks I'm cute. Do you know how many people have ever said I was cute?"

"Kurt, I know you're getting some attention from this guy-"

"Who you've never spoken two words to," he snapped. "Dad, you and I both know how well I can read people. You know I wouldn't be telling you he was a good guy if he actually wasn't, okay? Tonight you interrupted what could have been my first kiss with him. I'm seeing him again this week and hopefully for a couple weeks to come. I might actually get a boyfriend out of this, and I really, really like him, okay? I get enough of this from people at school, can I at least get some support from you?"

Burt looked at his son for a moment, understanding that he wasn't a child anymore. Kurt didn't need protecting, despite his handicap, not anymore, and he could make these decisions himself. Blaine looked like bad news, he really did, but if Kurt wanted to be with him there was nothing Burt could do anymore.

"Alright," he surrendered, holding up his hands. "Alright, you win. If you wanna be with this guy, then I support you, okay? But if he does _one __thing_ to get you in trouble or hurt you-"

"He would never hurt me."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm sure." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm gonna go to bed and try not to think about the awesome kiss I just missed out on."

* * *

><p>Punch.<p>

Punch.

Slap.

Punch.

Punch.

Fall.

Kick.

Stomp.

Kick.

"That's what you get for picking up the wrong cigarettes, faggot."

_No_, Blaine's mind scolded as he forced himself off the floor, blood in his mouth, body aching. _Not __tonight. __Why __did __he __have __to __beat __me __tonight? __It __was __so __perfect, __so __wonderful __with __Kurt __there. __Soft, __sweet, __sassy, __spiteful, __beautiful __Kurt._

He trudged back into his room, glaring at his mother as he went, who was peeking out of the bathroom with a glass of scotch as he passed. Tonight had been so great until now…

He sat down on his bed, opening his bedside drawer and taking out his oldest and closest friend.

A razor.

He rolled back his sleeve, staring at the blade, turning it over in his hand. He couldn't control Kurt's feelings for him, or his father's outbursts of rage on his body, or whether or not Kurt's dad would let him be with such a wreck. But he could control this. He could decide whether or not he'd cut shallow or deep, long or short, painful or painless. This was his to deicide, and right now, to down out the pain he felt in his heart and remind him the bruises he just received would only be a memory soon, this had to hurt. It'd help. It had to, and he needed _something_ to take away from it.

He shut his eyes, sighing almost in relief when the blade bit into his skin, hot blood pouring down his wrist.

_What would Kurt think about this?_

"Who cares?" He said almost inaudibly. No one cared about him, especially someone like Kurt. His father didn't care, his mother didn't care and the Warblers-

_They care._

_They'd get high before they'd help me._

His father hated him, wanted him dead sometimes. He would _never_ care. His mother would drown herself in alcohol, ever ignoring his beatings, his pain, his abuse that had been going on for as long as he could remember.

And Kurt, he'd be just as perfect as before if Blaine disappeared off the face of the earth this very moment.

He sliced over and over again, going over old scars, darkening them once more. He sighed, shutting his eyes. It hurt, yes, but God, it felt so good. The blood dripped onto the floorboards, staining where his rug would be replaced in a few moments.

Suddenly his phone buzzed on the bedside table. He frowned, looking down at it. The screen read, "New Message from: Kurt." He dropped the razor beside it, snatching up the device quickly.

"I hope my dad didn't scare you away," it read.

"Nah. He doesn't scare me," he replied. He waited for the screen to light up again anxiously.

"Good," a happy face followed. "I really did have a good time tonight."

"I'm glad." A few minutes passed before he got the next one.

"I really wanted to kiss you." It said. Blaine's mouth went dry, the razor long forgotten.

"Really?" He sent back.

"Yeah."

"Well, I hope I get the chance again."

"Me too."

* * *

><p>"…and I was so mad! He had no right barging in on us like that," Kurt grumped, his lips ever still kiss-less.<p>

"Well, you'll see him soon enough, won't you?" Rachel assured.

"I know," he sighed, closing his locker. "It just would've made everything perfect."

"How long have you two known each other?" She asked.

"About two weeks," he said. She frowned.

"And you already like him this much?" She wondered, slightly confused. He sighed.

"Look, Rachel, I know it's weird, and it goes against everything conventional about relationships and how they work in this country. But if you haven't noticed, our relationship isn't exactly conventional. I'm blind, and he's-"

"A juvenile delinquent?" She offered. He rolled his eyes.

"What I'm trying to say is, no matter how weird, or wrong this may be, it _feels_ right. When I'm with him, I just…I don't know. He makes me feel so wonderful, better than anyone else has _ever_ made me feel in my whole life. I like being with him, and I want to be around him all the time. I may not have known him for very long, but I think I'm falling for him," his words died in a whisper, looking toward the books clasped in his hands.

"Then I guess that's all that matters," she said quietly. She patted his shoulder. "I'll see you in Glee Club." She walked away.

He turned, counting his way down the hall to his classroom. He was mercilessly slammed into the lockers a few moments later, books clattering to the floor. He stayed crouched beside them, pain and heat radiating from his shoulder, listening to the retreating laughter of the boys that did it. One he recognized as David Karofsky.

"_Watch_ where you're going, homo!"

Kurt took a deep breath, shutting his eyes, already feeling his shoulder starting to bruise. He peeled himself from the lockers and continued on with shaky legs, wondering when the day would come that someone would do something about that. Then maybe he wouldn't have to be so afraid all the time.

* * *

><p>"What's that?" Blaine said, gently touching Kurt's shoulder. The pale boy's eyes grew, realizing his low-cut long-sleeved shirt was revealing his shoulder. He tugged it over, hiding the bruise. "What?"<p>

Blaine shook his head, reaching across the table to move the shirt again. "Don't 'what' me. You know what. What is this?" The bruise was violent, purpling and fresh.

_Please __don__'__t __let __his __dad __be __like __mine, __please __God._ He panicked, the thought fleeting and horrified.

"I'm…I'm not a favorite at my school, okay?" He said softly. "I got pushed into a locker today, it's no big deal."

The mild relief the dark-haired boy felt was replaced with flooding rage.

"They push you into lockers hard enough to do _that?_" He said, gently thumbing around it. Kurt shrugged away from him, trying not to blush like an idiot.

"Like I said, it's no big deal," he mumbled. He couldn't see the torn look of hurt and fury on Blaine's features.

"It is to _me_," he said pointedly. Kurt looked at the table, toying with his cup nervously. "Do they do anything else?" No answer. Blaine softened and gently took his hand, not caring about any of the conservative assholes that might have a problem with it.

Kurt relaxed a little, comforted enough to speak.

"Name-calling, mostly. Slushies, tossed in a dumpster, chairs shoved out in front of me. The usual," he muttered.

"Names," Blaine demanded, the anger winning out.

"I can handle it," Kurt assured, shaking his head. "I don't want to talk about this, can we please change the subject?"

Blaine obliged, but only because those big blue eyes seemed to be the only thing on this planet he couldn't say no to.

"…and I'm so excited for Sectionals," he giggled. Blaine grinned at possibly the cutest sound he'd ever heard.

"Yeah, me too," he smiled. "You gonna hang out with me there or treat me like the competition leper?" Kurt smirked.

"Maybe not a leper," he said wryly. Blaine took his hand again.

"So, what do you want to do now?" He asked, voice quiet, but tone holding something more that sent a shiver down Kurt's spine.

"I…I uh…I don't know," he squeaked truthfully.

"You wanna go for a walk?" He offered.

"It's freezing," Kurt frowned. Blaine squeezed his hand assuredly.

"I'll keep you warm."

How could he say no to _that_?


	6. Lost in Darkness

6

**Lost in Darkness**

Wrapped in warm, tender arms, his cologne sweetly overwhelming, Kurt was unbelievable comfortable. He sat on this park bench, one of Blaine's arms snaked around his waist, the other holding his hand. He sighed, content and comfortable.

Blaine was still astounded that he felt this way about Kurt, and that he was allowing him to hold him like this. He was never one for intimacy. He didn't hug and the word cuddle wasn't anywhere near his vocabulary, and he was sure if one of his friends somehow miraculously came by he make up some excuse as to why he was sitting this way. However, for the time being, he would stay right here with him and be damn happy about it.

"You still cold?" He wondered.

"No," he shook his head. "Are you cold?" Blaine shook his head, fighting the urge to stroke his cheek made pink by the cool night wind. He took slow, deep breaths, knowing Kurt probably felt his pounding heart. He'd been staring at his lips all night, and was doing so even now, wanting desperately to try and kiss him again.

"Hey, Blaine?" Kurt asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah?" He said, clearing his throat.

"What is this? Us, I mean?" He said softly.

"What do you mean?" He said, confused.

"Are…are we _together_, are we dating, are we _going_ to be together, is this just a fling, what?" He asked, slightly afraid of the answer. Blaine swallowed.

"I…I hoped we could get together, ya know, after we know each other better," he said. "I wanted to take this slow, in case…in case you didn't want me around."

"Oh," Kurt said softly, wondering how on earth Blaine could possibly think he didn't want to be with him. "Slow is good," he assured. Blaine smiled, looking at him. He was slouched against his chest, cheeks getting pinker by the minute, his skin so soft and beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss those plump, tempting lips in front of him. He lifted his chin, trying to keep his breath steady. Kurt swallowed hard, knowing what was coming.

He felt his eyes close as Blaine's warmth drew closer, body tensing, sensing Blaine drawing closer. His fingers searched desperately for something to hold onto, gripping the first thing they came to, Blaine's wrists.

The dark-haired boy froze when Kurt gasped and leaned back, eyes wide. Blaine's nostrils flared as he jerked away from him, terrified.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed. "Blaine, what is that?"

"Nothing," he spat instantly. "It's nothing, leave it alone."

"Blaine, do-"

"Drop it, Kurt!"

"Do you cut yourself?" He asked, voice gentle. Blaine stood, fuming.

"I said shut up!" He bellowed. Kurt winced, trying to reach for him.

"Blaine, it's okay, we can talk about this-"

"There's nothing to talk about!" He was yelling at him, and Kurt was caught between being defensive and being upset. "It's none of your goddamn business, okay?" The pale boy could only stare at him, ignoring the verbal abuse, just trying to help.

"Blaine, if you need help there's people-"

"I'M NOT GOING TO A FUCKING SHRINK!" He snarled. "JUST DROP _IT_!"

"I'm just trying to help!" Kurt retorted, angry tears in his eyes. Blaine glowered at him.

"I don't need help from a fuckin' cripple," he growled. He regretted it as soon as he said it, but there was no way he could take that back. "Kurt-"

He stood with dignity, tears on his face, but his voice was completely steady as he spoke. "I'm _not_ a cripple," he said, fists clenched. "So FUCK YOU!" He stalked off, well aware of where he was and how to get home from there. He waited until Blaine was well out of earshot before he sobbed aloud, face in his hands.

The criminal watched his retreating back, his heart thudding as it cracked painfully. He was gone. He wasn't coming back.

"FUCK!" He bellowed, slamming his fist into a tree beside him.

_YOU __DUMB __MOTHER__FUCKER! __Two __weeks, __two __FUCKIN__' __WEEKS __and __you __already __screw __it __up? __What __the __fuck __is __wrong __with __you? __HE__'__S __NEVER __COMING __BACK!_ He punched the tree over and over again, not allowing himself to feel anything else other than the physical pain he was causing himself. Pain he deserved, injuries he deserved.

Kurt was gone. He'd scared an angel away without giving a damn. He'd made that angel cry. He did that.

He continued to hit the tree even after his knuckles started to bleed. Even after they were split down to the bone.

* * *

><p>"Kurt, what's wrong?"<p>

"Nothing!"

"Kurt-"

"I'm fine, Dad! Just…just leave me alone…" His voice died off in a whisper as he continued up the stairs, shutting the door to his room. He collapsed on his bed, sobbing hard and hugging his pillow tight. Him and his big mouth.

_Everything would have been perfect if you hadn't said anything!_

"He-he called me-"

_I __know, __I __know, __he __did. __But __damn __it, __Kurt, __he __was __scared. _That didn't make it hurt less. His heart throbbed, eyes watering. He'd gotten used to not crying himself to sleep every night, since he'd met Blaine, but it was back, now. The same routine he'd been doing for nearly ten years.

He'd let the first guy he was allowed to fall for go. He fell back into his pillow, squeezing it as if it were a person that could take all of his troubles away.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, what did you do this time?" Dr. Alberts said. Blaine said nothing, staring down at his bloodied hands, jaw set. She took his hand, turning it over. "You're gonna need stitches, and a lot of them." He shrugged, unfazed, uncaring.<p>

He hadn't said a word since he came in here, and since they knew him so well at this corner free clinic he didn't have to. He needed five stitches per knuckle. He denied anesthesia, barely making a sound besides an occasional hiss as she worked.

"So who'd you fight?" She said softly.

"No one," he croaked, voice hoarse. She frowned.

"Well, you had to tear up your hands somehow," she urged. He shook his head. It wasn't any of her business what he did, or why he did it.

"Just stitch me up and stop playing twenty questions," he said darkly. She pursed her lips and continued.

"Do you want some antibiotics?" She wondered. "It'll help with the pain."

"My friends'll take 'em," he said, shaking his head.

"Blaine-"

"I'll be fine," he said sharply, voice never rising. She wrapped up his hands, still wondering if he was ever going to talk to her.

"Boy troubles?" She ventured, finishing the wrap. His eyes flicked up to her for the first time, glaring at her. She looked right back at him, unfazed. She was used to Blaine, she was used to people worse than Blaine too, but she knew how violent he could get. She kept her tone neutral. "I'm just wondering, not prying. You don't have to talk to me, Blaine."

"Yeah," he said after a long pause, looking at the floor. "I fucked up." He stood, grabbing his coat.

"He might forgive you, you know," she offered. He paused, his back to her so she wouldn't see the flash of agony cross his features.

"No," he whispered, remembering the look on his face. "No, he won't."

* * *

><p>"Kurt!"<p>

He kept walking.

"Kurt, wait up!"

Still ignoring him.

"Kurt," Finn skidded to a halt in front of him.

"I'm really not in the mood for an 'I told you so' moment, Finn, so leave me alone," he said firmly, walking around him.

"That's not what I wanted," Finn assured. "I wanted to know if you were okay." Kurt felt tears welling in his eyes again, which only pissed him off at this juncture.

"I'm fine," he spat. "Now…just…God, just leave me alone," he sounded weary as he spoke and stalked away, only growing more upset when he was tripped. He fell, knowing Finn wasn't there to help him up. No one would. He curled into himself against the lockers, breathing slow to calm himself down, wondering why his life had to suck so much.

He carefully pushed himself off the floor, only to be knocked back down again. He sobbed once, a tear escaping to his face. It had only been a few days, but…

He missed Blaine.

* * *

><p>"Who the fuck is this?" Blaine spat as he stepped into the choir room. The strange boy turned, smirking, something sparking in his eyes when he saw him. Blaine looked at the newcomer, sizing him up. He was taller than him, lean, brown hair, green eyes. Under different circumstances, Blaine would've tried to get with this guy. Well, in bed, anyway.<p>

The boy extended his hand, still smirking. "Sebastian Smythe."


	7. Dying Embers

7

**Dying Embers**

"Sebastian Smythe," the boy said, smirking at Blaine, appraising him. Blaine ignored him completely, looking to Wes.

"Since when did we just let people in without a meeting?" He growled. Wes scoffed.

"We did," Thad interjected. "You were busy with that-"

"Shut it," he snarled, turning to Sebastian. "So, can you sing?"

"Obviously. That's kinda how I got in," he chortled. Blaine sneered, in no mood for anyone's cocky attitude or the banter that this son of a bitch was going for.

"So why are you here, Smythe?" He growled. His smirk grew.

"Couple reasons," he said, ignoring the other Warblers in the room and walking closer to him. "One: I like to sing. Two: I was in a glee club at my old school. And three…" He looked him up and down again. "I heard that sex on a stick Blaine Anderson was in this one, and I _really_ wanted to meet you."

"Aw, Blaine," Nick cooed. "Looks like you've got a groupie." Sebastian's smirk faltered a bit. Blaine turned back to Wes, almost ignoring him completely.

"We already had enough members, why do we need him?" He wondered.

"Flynt got arrested last night. We needed a tenor to make up for him," he shrugged. "Sebastian came and auditioned while you were on your date last night and we let him in."

"How'd that go, by the way?" David asked. "The date, I mean?"

Blaine shook his head, going toward the door. "I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Jeff asked. "We need to practice."

"I'm more than ready for Sectionals. Show Smythe what he needs to do so he doesn't look like a total fuck-head when we get up there." He slammed the door, guilt heavy on his heart. He needed to talk to Kurt, and if he was going to ignore his phone calls and text messages, then he was going to go see him.

* * *

><p><em>Son of a bitch<em>, Kurt thought, lying on his back in the dumpster. Getting thrown into the dumpster wasn't that big of a deal, other than the smell and not knowing whether or not he was going to stick his hand in week-old pudding, but it was getting _out_ of the dumpster that was the hard part.

He sat up, finding the edge and gauging what would be the best way to get over this thing without falling on his face…again.

_Okay, Kurt,_ he thought, taking a deep breath. _Just swing your legs over and jump down. It's easy. You can do it._

He took a deep breath, his elbow aching from where he'd rammed it falling into it. He positioned himself in what he hoped was a good angle to jump down, swallowing hard.

He slipped.

His heart flew into his throat, muscles tensing all at once and bracing for hitting the ground and hurting himself. Maybe he'd break his arm again-

"Whoa!" A familiar voice said, catching him. "I gotcha, Kurt," Sam said, holding his shoulders and settling him to the ground. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he whispered. "Thanks." He moved to right his sunglasses, wincing when he felt unknown gunk sticking to him. "Can you point me in the direction of the bathroom?" He whispered.

"Yeah, uh, I'll take you," he said, half-smiling, wishing he could do a something more than just guide him somewhere he could get cleaned up. "So, what were you doing in the dumpster?"

Kurt scoffed. _Thanks for paying attention._ "Football players that don't care for my orientation threw me in," he said, trying not to be as sharp as he wanted to. Sam paused, suddenly outraged.

"What?" He exclaimed. "They-"

"Sam, I don't know what rock you live under at this school, but this happens to me at least once a week," he snapped, shaking his head and breaking away from him, recognizing where he was by the acoustics. Sam frowned again, pursing his large lips.

"Kurt, I…I'm sorry," he mumbled. Kurt shook his head.

"No, it…it's alright. Thanks," he sighed, turning into the bathroom. Sam followed, obviously not getting the hint from that he wanted to be alone. "Why are you following me?"

"I said I was gonna help you, so I am," he assured. Kurt pursed his lips, trying to keep his anger under control.

"I'm not helpless, Sam. I can clean myself up, okay? Just…" He rubbed his temples, so tired of the pain he received from bullying and the pain in his heart where Blaine had scarred it. "I appreciate you helping me, but I really want to be alone now."

Sam looked at his friend, who was standing with such awful agony in his eyes. "Is this about that guy you were seeing?"

Kurt jumped, staring up at him. "Who-who told you about that?"

"Finn," he said simply. "He was trying to figure out what he could do to help you out when you were seeing him, so he asked the glee guys for some advice." Kurt was suddenly murderously angry, face turning red immediately.

"Damn it…" He shook his head. "Don't worry about me, Sam." He turned and went into the bathroom before he could say anything else.

* * *

><p>Blaine looked around, watching the children leave the high school, getting into their respective modes of transportation to get hone, searching for one well-dressed brunette that outshone all the rest.<p>

He waited, watching as the throng of children dwindled to a spare few before going inside, deciding to look for Kurt himself.

He wandered through the halls, still searching, even listening for that sweet countertenor voice. He was just about to turn a corner when he stopped short.

He was still at his locker, piling books into his bag, beautiful as ever in a navy blue sweater and incredibly tight black pants that buttoned in the back. He didn't know which was better, the pants or the calf-high boots that went with them.

"Kurt!" He called, jogging toward him.

The pale boy froze upon hearing that voice in his never-ending darkness. He quickly closed his bag, shutting his locker and walking away from him. "Kurt, wait!"

"Go away," he tried to say forcefully, but all that came out was a quiet squeak that he surely didn't hear.

"Kurt, please, listen to me for just a second," he pleaded. Kurt shook his head, his heart aching from the reopened scars that Blaine had torn again.

"No." He was beside him now, invading Kurt's overly sensitive senses with his intoxicating cologne.

"Please-"

"No," he was forcing his voice to stay strong. "No, Blaine. You obviously don't want to be anywhere near me. You don't care about me. You wouldn't have said that if you did."

"Kurt, you don't understand, I-"

"HEY!"

Kurt fought the urge to hide his face in his hands, knowing his step-brother and probably Rachel were coming toward them.

"Finn-"

Blaine stood his ground, glowering at the giant he'd already had an altercation with in the past, ignoring the hobbit trailing being him. Finn got down and close to his face, threatening him. "Get the hell away from my brother."

"You can't tell me what to do, asshole," he barked. Rachel watched Kurt stand off to the side, shaking his head, angry, frustrated tears in his eyes.

"Finn, maybe we should-" She tried tugging his arm. He ignored her as well.

"Maybe not, but you don't scare me. Now you get the hell out of here and don't come near my brother again!"

"Finn, shut up!" Kurt demanded. "Blaine, go _home_!"

"Kurt, I just want to talk to you," Blaine said, his tone gentler than when he spoke to Finn again. "So give us some privacy!"

"YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Sue bellowed, stalking down the hallway.

"Nothing, Coach Sylvester," Finn said, smirking and glowering all at once. "Blaine was just leaving."

The leather-clad boy scowled, his eyes dark and murderous as he turned away, only faltering when his fingers brushed Kurt's hand as he passed.

Kurt winced at his touch, wishing his heart didn't want him to go after him and say he forgave him and just wanted to stay in his arms and forget all of this. That's all he wanted.

He had to stay where he was.

_This is real life, Kurt. This is real life, with real emotions and real things that just can't disappear because you're so lonely you can't breathe._

He waited until he knew Blaine was out of sight before he slammed his fists into Finn's chest, ignoring that Sue was even there, so overcome with anger and pain.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" He bellowed, feeling him fall back, surprised by the sudden blow.

"Whoa, Porcelain!" Sue tugged him back. Rachel covered her mouth, lost.

"What did I do!" Finn exclaimed. "I was just trying to-"

"STAY OUT OF MY LIFE!" He screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "God, Finn, just because I'm blind doesn't mean that I need someone holding my hand the whole way!" He jabbed a finger into his chest. "What happens between Blaine and I is _my_ business and my business alone! And I'd appreciate it if you cared a little more about what I tell you in confidence and not blab it to the ENTIRE GLEE CLUB!"

Finn remained speechless, as did Sue and Rachel. Kurt took a breath, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry-"

"Just leave, me, alone." He turned, stalking away, face screwed up in pain. Rachel jogged after him, waiting until he was outside with a few gulps of fresh air in him before she spoke.

"Kurt?" She said softly, walking closer to him. His head was bowed, eyes closed and burning. Slowly, she pulled him into a hug, closing her own eyes when he collapsed against her, sobbing. "Shh…shh…I know. I know…"

She didn't. She didn't know what it was like to be tormented, stalked and tortured by those apes every day. She didn't know what it was like to be pining for someone that had hurt you and just want to curl up in his arms and stay there.

But at least she was there.

"He was just trying to help," she whispered. He buried his face in her hair, thankful that he at least had a friend.

"I know, I know," he gulped. "But it hurts…"

"Shh, shh…"

* * *

><p>Blaine kicked and cursed and spat, finally screaming up at the heavens and collapsing against the brick. "God- FUCK!" He bellowed, rage and something close to sobbing that he forced himself to ignore. "I just wanted to talk to him," he breathed. "I just wanted to talk to him…"<p>

He wondered what would have happened if Kurt had talked to him. He saw him as he closed his eyes, that boy who was usually so full of life with light illuminating his gorgeous eyes looked nothing like that today. He looked scared and hurt.

_You did that_, he chastised, closing his eyes. _You hurt him. Stay away from him, Blaine. You'll only hurt him worse than you already have._

The lump in his throat was harder to swallow than usual, but he did.

_Stay away from him._

"I can't."


	8. Now I've Seen the Light

8

**Now I've Seen the Light**

Four days. It'd been four days since Blaine had seen Kurt at school, and the lack of seeing that sweet porcelain hurt his chest, which pissed him off, which is probably why he was drinking so much so fast.

"You might wanna slow down, dude," Trent advised, swaying a little in the doorway.

"I'll drink however fast I want!" He slurred. "So…fuck you." He broke into a fit of giggles. Wes shook his head, equally as messed up.

"I think he's fine as long as he doesn't drive his bike through the kitchen again," he said pointedly. "Thad was _SO_ pissed!" He cackled.

"So, Blaine," David asked, grinning stupidly behind his Solo cup. "This drunken escapade wouldn't have anything to do with Sightless?"

"None of your business!" He spat. "But yeah…"

"Aw, who needs him!" Nick said. "You've got Smythe!" He nodded behind him. Blaine looked, watching Sebastian smirk while talking to some girl that was invited to the party as well, continually glancing over at him.

_He's talking about me,_ he thought, wishing he gave a shit.

"I don't like him," he said plainly.

"Why not?" Thad exclaimed, looking up from his girlfriend's neck for the first time in twenty minutes.

Blaine shrugged. "I dunno. He's cute, sure, but…"

_But he's not Kurt. _

"But…?" Wes urged, smacking the back of Thad's head as he started making out again beside him on the couch.

"But I'm tired of having flings that don't matter," he said truthfully. "I'm sick of being with a guy for a few good fucks and then we're done. And that's all Smythe wants from me. He ain't gonna get it though," he snorted.

"It's kinda pathetic how much he wants your dick, man," Nick giggled. Blaine smiled, taking another shot.

"I don't know. Maybe I should just go for it. Kurt doesn't want anything to do with me," he sighed, leaning his head back. "I don't think letting Smythe suck my dick'll make me feel better, though."

"Why don't you talk to Kurt?" Jeff suggested. "Ya know, if you like him so much."

"I _tried_ talking to him. His fucking Behemoth brother wouldn't let me anywhere near him, and he won't answer my texts or my phone calls," he sighed. "He doesn't want me."

"Then you should totally give up," Wes snorted. "You're not a pussy at all if you don't keep trying. And no one ever changes their mind after they've been given time to think about how bad it really was. Nah, you're right, you should fuck Smythe."

Blaine stared at his drunken friend, surprised by his wisdom while so heavily intoxicated.

"That was deep, man," Nick chortled.

"Yeah, Socrates, you should write a book," David snorted.

"I'm gonna call him," Blaine nodded, standing, then falling back into the chair.

"You might wanna sober up first," Thad said pointedly. "That way you really don't do anything stupid."

"I'm not gonna say anything stupid," he assured. The Warblers laughed. "What?"

"Sorry, Blaine, but you tend to do a lot of stupid shit when you're drunk," Trent remarked. The others nodded. Blaine scoffed, folding his arms as if to challenge them.

"Like what?" He demanded. They exchanged glances.

"Well," Jeff began, "how about the time you bet us all fifty bucks that you could walk off the roof without hurting yourself?"

"Or that you could race through traffic on a shopping cart?"

"Or screaming, 'LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT AGAIN AND I'LL DONATE YOU TO THE NFL!' at a group of cops _in front of the police station_."

"Alright! I get it," he sighed. "I'll sober up, then I'll call him. I'm telling you, he won't pick up."

"Fifty bucks says he will," Wes challenged. Blaine rolled his eyes, his stomach feeling that pang as he spoke.

"No, he won't."

* * *

><p><em>Wash your face…You have to stop crying if you're going to do that. God, why do you keep crying?<em>

"I don't know," he said, swallowing hard. He knew damn good and well _Blaine_ certainly wasn't this upset. He wasn't crying right now, and he probably wasn't lonely, either. He'd probably moved on to someone else that wouldn't turn him away or act like a coward.

He shook his head, dabbing his eyes and trying _again_ to get his face cleaned. He was already too far behind on his routine to go to bed at a decent hour, not that it would matter anyway. He hadn't spoken to Finn in days, ignoring his father when he asked what had happened, telling him he didn't want to talk about it and if he really wanted to know he could ask Finn. He was quiet in school and in Glee club. The funny thing was no one seemed to notice that he was quiet, or that he looked positively miserable all the time.

_My friends really suck_, he thought miserably. None of them had even noticed the bullying growing worse every day, or the three slushies he'd received just this week alone.

He bowed his head. He could bear it much better if he didn't feel so alone.

Blaine had called him a cripple in a fit of anger and fear, he knew that. But the tone of his voice, the _malice_ that voice held, like he _wanted_ it to hurt as much as possible. That's what kept him from him. That and pride.

_Blind, not desperate,_ he assured himself. _You don't need a boy to be happy._

Something about Blaine made him want to throw that philosophy and do whatever it took to be with him. Something about Blaine gave him goosebumps whenever he came near. Something made him feel so right being incredibly close to him when he'd known him for a short amount of time.

He shook his head.

_Stop being such a pathetic loser_, he scolded. _I understand that you are one, nothing but a pathetic, lonely little boy and your only friends are just as bad but do you really have to act like this? You're lucky he wasted this much time on you. Now forget it. Lie to yourself and say that you're better than him and move on_.

He nodded tearing up again, throwing down the bottle of moisturizer in his hand, giving up and collapsing on his bed, shutting his eyes and crying silently, not wanting to startle his father.

Suddenly his phone went off on the nightstand beside him. "Text from Blaine," it announced in a robotic voice.

He sat up, staring in its direction, dumbfounded. "Text from Blaine," it repeated. He ignored it.

_No, loser._

Then it started to ring.

"Call from Blaine."

"Damn it," he breathed, shaking his head.

Three times. Blaine called three times, sending a text between each one.

"_Kurt, please, listen to me for a second!" _He bowed his head, remembering the excruciating sincerity in his voice. He swallowed hard, heart catching when his phone went to voicemail again.

"If he calls again, I'll answer," he swore, nodding. Praying only to the deepest part of him in a voice so quiet he wasn't sure if he'd allowed the thought or not.

_Please call._

* * *

><p>Blaine dug his head into the wall behind him, fighting the urge to slam it as hard as he could. He shut his eyes, digging the corner of his phone into his temple. "C'mon, Kurt, c'mon…" He begged, waiting for an answer to a text message, or even a phone call.<p>

One ring, just one, that's all he was asking for, _something_ to let him know that Kurt hadn't totally given up on him.

He waited, and waited. But God damn it all nothing happened. His phone stayed silent, mocking him with it's muted speaker. Lifeless.

He felt that hollowness in his stomach creep back in again, the emptiness that was there before Kurt was here. The cold, harsh, vacant wasteland that was his heart, jaded and coated in stone. He didn't want to feel like that again. He didn't want Kurt to be gone. He wanted to say he was sorry and maybe, _maybe_ get _another_ chance to kiss him like he deserved.

But his phone said nothing, sitting in his hand like a plastic rock that accomplished absolutely nothing.

_One more time_, he thought. _Just call him one more time._

He shook his head, the cold wind biting at him, as if it knew the guilt he had and the horrible thing he'd done to this boy that he so desperately wanted to talk to. The party raged on inside, loud and pulsating against the windows. There was no doubt in his mind that his friends had totally forgotten about the advice they'd given him a few hours ago, or that Sebastian still wasn't waiting by the drinks right where he'd walked away from him.

He swallowed, looking down.

_Sebastian would be easier,_ he told himself. _You're used to Sebastians. No real feelings, no real commitment, just someone to get off with that'll suck your dick without question. Kurt won't do that. Kurt will take time, and work and patience. God only knows when you can fuck him._

_No_, he shook his head, heart wrenching. _No, I don't want that. I don't want to do that to him. I don't want to fuck him. I want to hold him and kiss him and hear him talk. I want a real relationship for once, not that same-old bullshit. It's real with Kurt. Something…something's amazingly different with Kurt_. _I want that._

"I want Kurt," he whispered, flipping open his phone and dialing rapidly.

Kurt sat up, diving for his phone when it rang again. He didn't need the voice to tell him who it was, this time. He knew.

"Hello?" He said, voice strangely secure.

"Kurt! Kurt, please, please listen to me. Just for a second," he pleaded. The countertenor remained silent, unable to form the words. "Kurt, I'm sorry. _I'm so fucking sorry_, you have to know that. Please forgive me. I know what I did was terrible but…but I didn't mean it. I was angry and I acted like such a goddamn coward. I-I should be _shot_ for what I said to you," he paused, taking a deep breath and swallowing. "I'm not asking you to keep considering me as your boyfriend anymore. I know I fucked up too badly for that to happen. But please, you have to know that I am so fucking sorry for hurting you. Please, Kurt, forgive me."

Kurt was silent for a moment, trying to force his tongue to form coherent words. "Blaine…" He finally said, his heart gaining speed as he spoke the name. "I forgive you." He gave an audible sigh of relief, waiting patiently for the angel to speak again. "And," he smiled to himself, "you're only on strike two."

Blaine grinned stupidly, so relieved. "Yeah?" Was all he could manage.

"Yeah," Kurt breathed.

"Where are you right now?" Blaine asked. He wanted to see him. No, he _had_ to see him, right now. He couldn't wait, not after being away from him for almost a week.

"I-in my room," he said, unsure of why Blaine was asking.

"Is your dad home?"

"Yeah, he's asleep. Everybody is."

"Would you object to me coming to see you right now?" He asked, an edge of want in his voice. Kurt's breath caught, heart thudding.

"You'll have to sneak through my window." Who said that? Did _he_ say that? No, no, surely not. He wouldn't say that.

_But you did_.

"Okay," Blaine said softly. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Hurry," Kurt whispered.

* * *

><p>Blaine bolted back into the house, snatching the keys to his bike and his jacket.<p>

"Whoa, where's the fire?" Jeff asked.

"I'm goin' to see Kurt," he said gruffly, masking his happiness.

"Aw, that's too bad," Sebastian pouted, coming up behind him. Wes rolled his eyes while Nick made a fake gagging sound. "I was gonna ask you to dance."

"Sorry," Blaine said, though he sounded anything but as he worked his way back to the front door.

"Hey, c'mon," he said, grabbing his sleeve. "One dance won't kill you." Blaine shrugged out of his grip, twisting the knob.

"In the infamous words of one of my favorite artists, it's just you and your hand tonight." He left, leaving the rest of the Warblers cackling with laughter.

* * *

><p>Kurt's breath stuttered when he heard a light knock on his window, too soft to disturb anyone with normal hearing. He tried not to rush, easing the window open, instantly assaulted by the smell of this boy's skin and hair.<p>

"Hi," Blaine whispered, incredibly close once to him once he was standing.

"Hi," Kurt repeated, chest tight. The darker brunette gingerly put his hands on his waist, noting the blush that rose to his cheeks as well as his own.

The countertenor became suddenly aware that he was in nothing but a paper-thin undershirt and sweats…and Blaine's hands were on his waist, warm and calloused. "I'm so sorry, Kurt,"

"Don't," he said softly, touching his lips. "It's okay."

His eyes were still red and swollen, and as his eyes traveled to the bed, Blaine could see the tear-stains on his pillow as well. He took of his jacket, the room stifling, before he wrapped Kurt in his arms, the guilt almost choking him. He smiled gently when he rested his cheek against his chest, thin fingers running through his thick hair.

He pulled away after a moment, guiding the ruffian to sit down on his bed, their hands linked together. "Kurt, can…" Blaine whispered, touching his chin. Kurt swallowed, his blind eyes shining in the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. Blaine sighed, taking a moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he was.

"What?"

"Can I kiss you now?" The air left his lungs, realizing that this boy, this one right here, wanted to kiss him. And _God_ he wanted him to.

He didn't bother with an answer. He just started leaning toward him, closing his eyes as an afterthought, wanting to focus on nothing but _feeling Blaine_.

The criminal's heart thundered, swelling to a painful size. He felt Kurt's shaking breath against his face as he got closer, smelling his toothpaste and the lotion on his skin. He cupped his cheek, thumbing the softer-than-silk skin. Kurt's hands clenched the blanket beneath him, his whole body shaking. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing.

Then he kissed him. His lips were warm, careful and so gentle. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.

_I'm kissing a boy, I'm kissing a boy, I'm kissing a boy!_ He thought manically.

Blaine was lost in this incredibly soft skin, his free hand wrapping around his waist to bring him closer. He moaned in surprise when Kurt deepened the kiss, sliding a careful but surprisingly skilled tongue in his mouth. He jumped back after a moment, looking up at him.

"Your tongue's pierced?" Kurt breathed, a blush high on his cheeks.

"Yeah," Blaine chuckled. Kurt grabbed his face, crushing their lips together again, fingers tangling in his curls, kissing heatedly with a passion that Blaine always knew he had.

They didn't break apart for what felt like hours, gasping for air, lips red and swollen.

"Can you stay here for a little while?" Kurt breathed, wanting him close. Blaine nodded.

"I'll stay here until you fall asleep," he nodded, laying down with him, holding him. "I'm still sorry, Kurt."

He shook his head, nuzzling his face into his chest. "Don't worry about it."

Blaine rubbed his back and his forehead, trying to remind himself that this was anything but a dream. A few hours ago he was sure that Kurt would never want anything to do with him. Now he was rocking him to sleep, rubbing his forehead, which he kissed several times and holding him gently.

He started to sing softly, lulling him further. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Katy Perry?" He whispered sleepily. Blaine shrugged, giving an embarrassed smile.

"It's a guilty pleasure," he admitted. Kurt shut his eyes again, settling back into his arms.

"Don't stop."

"_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream. The way you turn me on. I can't sleep, let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back…_"


	9. Don't Blink

9

**Don't Blink**

Kurt woke slowly, his senses assaulted with familiar cologne, a warm body breathing deeply beside him. He smiled to himself, nuzzling deeper into Blaine's shirt, content.

Blaine stirred at his movements, eyes peeking just enough to see Kurt before he closed them again, squeezing him closer, wanting to stay there and hold him for as long as possible.

"Hi," Kurt whispered, stifling a shiver as Blaine absently stroked his bare arms.

"Hi," he smiled. "I don't wanna move." Kurt's smile grew at the confession, his face still resting in his chest.

"Then stay here," he whispered. Blaine obliged happily, gently lifting his chin to kiss him. Kurt sighed, moaning quietly at the touch of his skin.

"You okay?" Blaine chortled.

"I'm just not used to that," he breathed. "And…and I'm really sensitive." He frowned, sitting up a little.

"What do you mean?" He asked, curious. Kurt blushed.

"Because I can't see, I…I'm a lot more sensitive to, to touch than everyone else. My skin, my lips and my fingertips are really…" Blaine stroked his neck, testing waters, lips a breath away from him.

"So, how does this feel?" He wondered. Kurt swallowed.

"Um, uh…not bad," he said softly, voice shaking a little.

"So," Blaine continued, thumbing soft, tentative circles where his shoulder met his arm. "Does that mean your tongue's sensitive too?"

"Uh huh," he said, voice even quieter.

"So what does this do?" He whispered, connecting their lips with hard fervor, shamelessly sliding his tongue past his lips, holding his back to steady him. Kurt did his best not to whimper, turning to jelly in his hands. He let his own tongue tangle with his, the piercing touching the sensitive cells, making him tremble harder. Blaine's hands gently stroked the back of his neck and his arms, his fingertips swirling his skin. Kurt felt every breath and tiny miniscule movement Blaine made in these moments, every sensation totally new and beautiful. Everything was so hot, the air thin and God, why was his chest so tight? His lungs were on fire and-

"Kurt, breathe," Blaine said huskily, smirking. He gasped, smiling, blushing, embarrassed. Blaine chuckled catching his lips again, marveling at how _soft_ Kurt was and how wonderful a kisser he was. "You've never been kissed before?" He blurted, simply marveling at him.

"Never," he breathed. Blaine crushed their lips together again, his heart jumping when Kurt kissed him back with incredible fervor, those baby-soft hands cupping his cheeks and keeping him close. He felt the stubble on his chin burn in an incredible way against his skin, his lips swelling again and he hoped they'd ache just as they had when he woke up this morning.

Someone knocked. "Kurt?" They froze.

"Shit."

"Kurt, you up yet?"

"Uh, yeah, Dad!" He called back, scrambling off the bed and tugging Blaine along with him. "Just a second, I'm getting dressed!"

He shoved Blaine toward the closet as noiselessly as possible. "The closet, hide in my closet!" He hissed when Blaine didn't fully understand what was happening. He shut the door with a quiet snap, quickly flying out of his sweats and wriggled into a pair of jeans before flying into the stool in front of his vanity, hastily applying moisturizer to his cheeks before calmly saying, "Come in!"

"Hey," Burt said, stepping inside. "I was just comin' to tell you that Carole and I are heading to her folks' place with Finn now and I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything."

"No, I'm alright," he said, smiling at him. "Thank you, though."

"Someone's feeling better," Burt remarked, chuckling softly. Kurt shrugged.

"I'm an adolescent, Dad. Our emotions change faster than Midwestern weather," he chuckled. Burt smiled.

"Well I'd better get going, then," he said, heading for the door. He paused mid-turn, seeing an unpleasantly familiar leather jacket hung up beside the door. "Kurt," he said, seriousness in his voice. "Who's jacket is this?"

Kurt paled only slightly, but kept the fear out of his voice as he spoke. "The red one?"

"No, the leather one that smells like smoke and gas," he said, a low growl in his voice.

"Oh, Blaine let me borrow it. I got cold the other night and he let me wear it," he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone.

Burt frowned, tossing the jacket onto his bed. "I thought you were done with this kid?"

"And I thought you were okay with me dating him?" He challenged, face tight, lips pursed and spiteful. Burt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I am, I just…I still don't think it's a good idea. I mean, look at the way he's treating you-"

"Dad, you don't-"

"I know, I don't know him. You've told me that every time he comes up. But you know what you haven't told me? Why exactly you want to be around him in the first place. From what I've heard he's nothing but a punk. The guys around the shop said-"

"Dad!"

"You have your friends and I have mine. All I'm asking is why you're even bothering with a kid that has a juvenile record that's literally a mile long?" He demanded. Kurt took a deep breath, knowing that Blaine was only a few feet away, hearing his father say all of this and about to hear his response. He swallowed, forcing himself to pretend he wasn't there so he didn't weigh every word that came out of his mouth.

_Just say precisely what you think_, he thought, swallowing his heart and using the courage he'd gained from Blaine's kisses before he spoke.

"He…he's nice to me. I know that it's only to me, but that's the only thing that matters. He's sweet, he's smart, he makes me laugh, he makes me smile. He's got this hard outer shell, yeah, but once you get underneath it he cares _so much_. I know he doesn't like to show it, but _God,_ he's just so kind. He acts the way he does because he's scared of something. I don't know if it's showing his emotions, or something at home, or if he's just mad at the world but he treats me like I'm the whole world. I like the way I feel when I'm with him and I…" He looked at his hands. "I'm happy when I'm with him, Dad. And I think…I think the only reason that you and everyone else that doesn't like him treats him the way you do is because you can't see him the way I can."

Burt pursed his lips, looking from his son to the jacket. "Does he really make you happy?"

"Yeah, Dad, he really does." He continued moisturizing his cheeks. Burt sighed, patting his shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" He said. Kurt nodded.

"Bye, Dad."

From the closet, Blaine watched the father go before he went back to staring at Kurt's back, positively dumbstruck. He waited until the sound of the Hummel's SUV firing up, the engine sound dying away as they took off before stepping out, coming up behind him.

Kurt didn't move, his heart thudding too hard for him to really move. He didn't mean to say all of that out loud. He'd barely admitted and understood half of that himself, let alone say it right in front of Blaine. The fear of his father finding him hiding in his room had been completely overshadowed by this. He breathed slowly, breathing shallow, afraid of what was about to happen.

"Kurt?" Blaine said when he was close enough, kneeling beside the chair. Kurt turned to face him, his heart thundering. "Did you really mean all of that?" He nodded, unable to speak. Blaine stared at him, shaking his head.

"What are you thinking right now?" Kurt breathed, gently cupping his face to try and get an idea.

"I just…" He looked away from him, not meeting Kurt's eyes. "No one ever wants to give me a chance, Kurt. No one gives me the time of day. They either ship me off to some school that's supposed to teach me manners or throw me in Juvie again. And you said…" He chewed his lip, still not looking at him despite that he couldn't see him.

Kurt, however, felt his cheek grow warm in his hand and he stifled himself from smiling, knowing he would only make matters worse. Blaine wasn't one to bare his feelings like this and he didn't want to scare him away from it.

"And I said…?" He urged softly.

"You made it sound like you'd give me that chance," he whispered. Kurt leaned down, gently pecking his lips.

"Why do you think I let you come over here? Or let you take me to dinner? Or let you drive me on that wonderful motorcycle of yours?" He smiled. Blaine looked at him, wishing he was brave enough to fully tell him how he felt.

"Why didn't I meet you sooner?" He blurted, flushing and turning away from Kurt's hand once he did. Kurt chuckled, his beautiful eyes staring at nothing.

"I don't know," he whispered. Blaine's hand came up to cup his cheek, leaning his face close, nose barely brushing against his neck, lips a breath away. Kurt cleared his throat loudly, standing too fast and knocking over the chair. His blush deepened. "Uh, um, are you hungry?" He stammered, beyond flustered. Blaine stood with him, still smiling.

_God, he's beautiful,_ he thought happily. "Yep." Kurt smiled.

"Alright. Is pancakes okay?" Blaine cocked his head.

"You can make pancakes?" He wondered. Kurt giggled.

"Is everything I do a blind-boy pet trick?" He teased. Blaine grinned.

"No, you just keep surprising me."

* * *

><p>"Damn, these are good," he smiled. Kurt grinned as well, pouring a glass of milk. Blaine watched curiously as the milk rose to the tip of Kurt's finger, which was rested about an inch inside the glass before he slid it to Blaine.<p>

"Thank you," he said happily, sitting down to his own plate. Blaine looked around the kitchen. His whole house was simply a marvel, full of things that Blaine hadn't known existed.

For starters, everything was organized. Even the furniture had tape mapping out where the legs needed to go, just in case something got moved. The numbers on the stove were raised so Kurt could read them, the words in Braille stickers that had been printed with a special label maker and the same could be said for the microwave. When he peeked at the bookshelf he found several books in Braille and even more on tape or disk, sorted alphabetically and perfectly.

"Can I ask you something?" He said, leaning on his hand lazily.

"Is this blind questionnaire?" He asked, smirking.

"No, just one question," he assured. "How do you dress so wonderfully?"

Kurt blushed. "I have my closet organized very specifically and…" He showed him the inside of his sweater, revealing a small button shaped like a butterfly. "I use them to organize my clothes. By color, fabric and season, of course." He grinned, and Blaine smiled right back. God, he loved this feeling.

"You're amazing," he sighed, smiling softly. Kurt blushed.

"Thank you."

They spent the whole day together, watching movies, listening to music and talking about everything and kissing. Lots, and lots of kissing.

Kurt was seated in Blaine's lap, legs stretched to the rest of the couch, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers running through his beautiful, thick curls. Blaine's nimble fingers were clenched the fabric of his shirt, wondering if the rest of his body was as soft as his lips.

"I'm gonna kiss your neck," he warned. "Don't freak out."

"Oh-okay," he gasped, swallowing hard. He moaned, biting his lip when Blaine's tentative lips teased his neck, his fingers gently grazing his collarbone. God, this was all so new and, and _ohhh_ he didn't know his neck could feel like that. "Slowslowslow, oh, Blaine, slow down…"

"Sorry," he breathed. "Sorry, you're just gorgeous and you taste so damn _good_."

"Mmph!" His teeth dragged across his lower lip, feeling Blaine bite ever-so-gently on his skin before kissing behind his ear again.

"Are you okay?" He chuckled. Kurt let out a breathy laugh, eyes still closed as he leaned into his lips.

"No, no, I'm not okay," he breathed. "I'm incredible and I- ah…" Blaine was sucking now, gently. "I've just never felt this way be_fore_!" His eyes fluttered closed again. Blaine was getting braver, his hands sliding down his shoulders, on his back and slid down to squeeze his plump, firm flesh.

In an instant, Kurt was standing as fast as he could, backing away just a little. Blaine stared, heart skipping, knowing that he'd just crossed a boundary.

"I'm sorry!" He said instantly.

"It…it's okay," Kurt sighed, slowly calming himself down, breathing hard. "I just…I told you, I've never been touched like that before and…" His cheeks were red. "I liked what we were doing, but…I can't let it go too far, okay? Exposing myself to someone like that really scares me." He was even redder when he realized what he'd said…aloud. Blaine stood slowly, stepping toward him to take his hand.

"It's alright," he nodded, cupping his cheek. "I shouldn't have…I didn't-"

"It's okay," he said shyly. Blaine pressed their foreheads together again, smiling softly.

"So…where were we?"

* * *

><p>"Blaine, it's dawn, my parent's are gonna be home soon," Kurt whispered, head rested against his chest. Blaine sighed, smiling gently.<p>

"Alright, alright, I'm leaving," he said, kissing his forehead and his lips one more time. "I guess the real world is sick of being ignored." Kurt smiled back, still sleepy. Blaine chuckled, carefully sliding out of the bed so he didn't disturb him much. He slid his jacket over his shoulders before kissing him one more time.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised.

"Text me," Kurt mumbled, returning the lazy kiss.

"Get some sleep first," he warned, opening the window and hopping through. "Bye, Kurt."

"Bye, Blaine," he grinned. He snuggled against the pillow Blaine had been resting against; it smelled like him. He giggled without being able to help it, getting whisked away to sleep, dreaming of leather, bubblegum and burning stubble.

* * *

><p>His hands shook as he dialed the phone, waiting as it rang, doing his best to keep his voice steady.<p>

"Hello?"

"Hey, Wes," his voice was raspy. "Hey, I'm not gonna be able to make it to practice. I've been puking all day and I feel like shit."

"Damn, you stay put," Wes spat. "Keep your diseased ass at home. Call me when you get better, man."

"Yeah, will do." He ended the call before sending a text to Kurt. _Can't see you today. I'm sick. See you soon. Goodnight._ "There," he said softly.

"Give me the phone, faggot." Blaine looked up at his father, handing it to him, still trying not to tremble. He grunted when an iron fist came down on his jaw, knocking him back onto the bed. He grabbed a fistful of his curls, bringing his face close. "Don't you ever, _ever_ leave for that long again, do you understand me?"

"I told you, I was with-"

More pain. Another beating that left his nose bleeding, lip swelling rapidly, ribs aching. "YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU WERE DOING? YOU WERE FUCKING SOMEONE!" Another punch. "You were taking it up the ass like the _FAGGOT_ YOU ARE!" Blaine was breathing hard, his breath hitching, still unable to look away from the man with a vice grip on his hair.

"You stay here until you've learned your lesson," he spat, throwing his son down again, grinning when his head bounced off the wall behind him.

Blaine waited until he was sure he was gone before collapsing, weary, beaten body breaking him down enough to let him cry almost silently into his pillow. The dog-chain tied around his wrists rattled as his body shook.


	10. Reflections

10

**Reflections**

"Can I go to school…please?" Blaine begged, unable to meet this monster's eyes. His father grabbed the chain, yanking hard. Blaine cried out in pain, jerking forward, his wrists tearing open again. A fist latched into his hair again, yanking his head up.

"Since when do you want to go to fuckin' school?" He snarled. Blaine stared at him, praying that the fear wasn't showing in his eyes.

"I need to practice for section-"

_SLAP!_ He winced, his head jerking. "Singing and dancing…can you be more of a queer?" He didn't answer.

"I just want to go to school," he whispered, staring down at his bloody wrists, knowing Mommy dearest was standing just outside the door, listening to everything.

"I don't think so," he said firmly. His heart fell.

_LET ME SEE KURT! _His heart screamed. _LET ME SEE HIM! IT'S KILLING ME THAT I'M NOT SEEING HIM, PLEASE!_

"Can I at least have my phone?" He croaked.

"So you can call the fuckin' cops? I don't fucking-"

"Have I _ever_ called the cops?" He retorted. "Dad, please…" It was the first time he'd uttered those words since he was very young.

"David," a voice, a woman's voice, said from the door. The abuser turned, looking at his wife with skepticism. "Give him his phone. He doesn't get to piss when he wants to, at least give him his phone."

Blaine couldn't believe it. He really couldn't believe that his mother had actually stuck up for him. Surprisingly, his father tossed the device at him, turning on his heel. He paused at the doorway, getting incredibly close to his mother's face.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ tell me how to raise him again, do you understand me?" He snarled. She nodded, eyes closed. She didn't open them until he walked away. She looked at her son, who was shaking just a little. She sighed, jumping when the front door slammed closed, signaling that he'd left for work.

"I'm gonna close this," she said, shutting his window. He said nothing, merely stared at her, clinging to the phone for dear life. She draped his comforter around his shoulders, never touching him once as she left the room. "I'll be in with your lunch later."

She shut the door.

Blaine nestled himself into his blanket, desperate for warmth, tears in his eyes again. He turned his phone on, praying that his father hadn't looked at his messages, or sent anything to Kurt to make him think…

He quickly checked his messages finding dozens from Kurt that were unanswered. He sighed, relieved. He decided to answer the most recent message, which read _Blaine, are you alright? You're really starting to scare me._

_Yeah, I'm alright, _he replied. _This fever's really kicking my ass. I'll be back soon._

He didn't have to wait long before he got another message.

_I hope so. I really miss you. _He smiled sadly, more tears in his eyes.

_I miss you too._

_Well, I'll talk to you at lunch. I have to get to class. Get better!_

He sat back, leaning his head against the wall, holding the phone tight in his hands. _I miss you more than you know…and I hope you never have to know._

* * *

><p>"Kurt, Blaine's here," Rachel said, watching his face light up.<p>

"He is?"

"Yeah," she said, watching him come toward them. "Kurt, he's hurt again."

"What?" He breathed. "What's wrong?"

"His face…it's all bruised and scratched…he has a black eye again," she said, concerned. Kurt sighed, just wishing Blaine was in front of him already.

Blaine quickened his step, watching curiously as a group of boys in letterman's jackets walked past Kurt, one with a large cup in his hand. He gasped when they stepped away, laughing, leaving Kurt covered in red juice and ice.

"HEY!" He bellowed barreling toward them.

"Blaine, don't!" Kurt sputtered as Blaine bolted passed him.

"You look at me when I'm talking to you, you meat-headed mother fucker!" Blaine snarled, grabbing the jock's shoulder and turning him around, despite how much bigger than him he was.

"And who the hell are you?" He spat.

"Your worst fuckin' nightmare. You ever_, ever _come near Kurt again and I swear to God I'll beat the ever loving shit out of you," he swore, glaring at him.

Dave laughed it off with the others behind him. "Look, why don't you go back to the Shire with your queer? He'll need someone to show him how to get there anyway."

Blaine nodded, jaw set, looking at the ground for a moment before he leaped at him, diving to absolutely rip him to pieces. And he would have, if not for Puck, Mike and Finn grabbing him to stop him.

"Don't, man!" Mike warned.

"I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Blaine snarled. "You EVER touch him again and I will END YOUR FUCKING LIFE!"

"Calm down!" Finn hissed. "If a teacher comes out here-"

"You're not gonna do shit, queer!" Karofsky called back. Blaine writhed out of their arms, so murderously angry. He swung at the jock's face, smiling when he connected with his jaw as the others pulled him back again.

Dave staggered back before walking away. Blaine shook his head, shrugging out of their grips again.

"What the hell, man?" Puck asked.

"He chucked a slushy in Kurt's face," he snarled. "As long as I'm around _no one_ is _ever_ gonna touch him." His chest was heaving hands shaking. He wiped his nose, which had started bleeding again.

"You did that for Kurt?" Finn wondered, skeptical.

"There's a lot I would do for Kurt," he said, eyes dark. "Does shit like that happen a lot?"

"Yeah," Puck said truthfully. Blaine turned away, going back to Kurt.

"Aren't you supposed to be his brother?"

Finn looked at the ground, ashamed.

* * *

><p>Kurt stood there spluttering, after Blaine walked away, his eyes burning horribly, such awful stinging that stabbed and spiked through him. The ice seeped into his clothes, making him shiver.<p>

"Kurt…" Rachel said, helping him wipe off his face.

"Where'd Blaine go?" He coughed, choking on cherry syrup. He could feel it drizzling down his neck and his back, so cold and soon to be very sticky and disgusting.

"I don't know, he followed Karofsky," she said.

"No!" He exclaimed, trying to move away from her. "If he gets into a fight he'll go back to Juvie-"

"Kurt." It was Blaine's voice this time. He took the handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the ice and juice from his cheeks.

"What did you do?" He asked, slightly exasperated.

"Made it clear what will happen if he touches you again," he said simply. Kurt sighed. "All I got in was one punch."

"Blaine-"

"He won't do anything, baby. Trust me," he assured, holding his face. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

"Blaine," Kurt said, leaning away from him. "Blaine, it's not like Dalton here. If you're all over me like that…"

"As long as I'm around no one is ever going to do a damn thing to you, alright? You're safe. You're right here, with me, and you're safe," he assured. Kurt sighed, leaning back into his hand.

_You're in the dark anyway,_ he thought to himself. _You can't see the looks they'll give you. Who gives a shit? Be here with him, with Blaine._

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up." He said softly.

* * *

><p>Blaine got the paper towels to clean him off, went to his locker for him to get a change of clothes and his toiletry bag with various skin and hair-care products.<p>

"Thank you for this," Kurt said from inside the bathroom stall. Blaine smiled, taking his clothes as they came over the door, putting them in the plastic bag in his hands.

"No problem," he said softly. "It's kind of my job, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Kurt chuckled. "You're my 'seeing-eye boy'?" Blaine smiled, shaking his head.

"That's not what I mean," he said. He turned when Kurt emerged from the stall, breath gone for a moment. It was amazing how breathtaking he could make himself in just a few minutes, and after getting that disgusting liquid splashed all over him.

"Then what?" Kurt asked, worried. Blaine smiled, stepping toward him. He wrapped his arms around his waist, smile growing when he saw the blush rising in his cheeks. He rested his cheek against his chest, sighing happily. Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, breathing slowly, at peace for the first time in days, happy at least for a moment, and he'd have this to use tonight when the beatings came. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He asked, as if reading his thoughts.

"Maybe someday," he said truthfully. "Not right now. You have enough to worry about without thinking about that, okay?" Kurt nodded, still not liking the idea, but what choice did he have? Blaine turned his head, still cradling him so close. He connected their lips, delving them into a slow, warm, languid kiss. Kurt hummed into it, still blissful when they broke apart. "Hey, Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you…Would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?" His voice was so soft Kurt hardly heard him, which was certainly saying something. He felt his cheeks get hot almost instantly, palms sweating, mouth dry.

"_You_ want _me_ to…to be your boyfriend?" He said, skeptical to his statement

_No one wants a blind boyfriend. This has to be a trick of some kind he can't be telling you the truth. He can't. _

"Of course I do," he breathed. "You're…God, Kurt, you're everything. And you're a helluva lot more to me than a boyfriend but…but that's the label people use. So…?"

He was dumbfounded, to say the least. Blaine really did want that. "You're serious?" Blaine chuckled softly.

"Is it really that hard to believe?" He wondered.

"Yeah," Kurt nodded, voice soft. "Why would you…?" Blaine kissed him deeply, gently cupping his cheeks, trying to do his best to convey what he felt without saying it because god damn it he didn't know how.

"Because you're the best thing that's ever, _ever_ walked into my life and I plan on hanging onto you as long as I can. So please, Kurt, answer me?"

"Yes," he blurted. "Yes."

_What if he's lying?_

_He hasn't lied to me yet. I'd know if he was lying now. He isn't. I know he isn't. _

They kissed again, in each other's arms.

Blaine smiled to himself, knowing that no matter what hell met him when he went home tonight, no matter if he used the chain or not, if he beat him so badly he needed to go to the hospital. He could not take this away from him. He pushed his class ring into Kurt's hand, trying not to smile as much when Kurt turned magenta.

"What's this for?" He squeaked.

"You're my guy, right?" Blaine asked. Kurt nodded vigorously. "Well, I wanna make sure the whole world knows it."

Kurt grinned, slipping it on his hand, incredibly elated. "Okay."

"Hey," Blaine began, forehead pressed to his. "Why don't you come to choir practice with me?"

"Isn't that spying?" He asked. Blaine grinned.

"I think you have to see to be considered a spy," he teased. They laughed. Happy. Together.


	11. Fumbling in the Dark

11

**Fumbling in the Dark**

"What? Can he do that?" Nick asked, confused.

"It doesn't break any rules," David said, skimming through the graffiti covered handbook.

"It's says no one can see any of our practices during the weeks before competition-"

"Yeah," Wes said, cutting Thad off. "_See._ Blaine's dating that blind kid, remember?"

"What?" Sebastian spat, standing. "_That's _what this is about? Blaine's dating a fucking blind-"

"Watch it, Smythe," Jeff warned. Thad glared at him. "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all, or Blaine'll beat your chipmunk face in."

"At least that's what he told us," David amended. "We don't really give a shit, but I don't want to piss Blaine off." The others shook their heads.

Sebastian shook his head, sitting down, pouting. "He ditched me at a party for a fuckin' _cripple_," he whispered. "What the fuck does he see in him?"

* * *

><p>"Blaine, I don't know if this is a good idea," Kurt said nervously.<p>

"Don't worry, nothing's gonna happen. You're with me, remember?" Blaine assured, squeezing his hand as he lead him down the staircase.

"If we're basing this off of the _last_ time I saw them…"

"They won't do anything, I swear. They're barks are a hell of a lot worse than their bites. Except Wes. Pretty sure Wes'll kill someone with his bare hands," he chuckled. Kurt wasn't any more at ease than he was before. "Kurt, trust me. These guys are my friends. Besides, after this, you can go back to Nude Erections and tell everyone how hard you need to work at Sectionals," he teased. Kurt swatted his arm.

"In your dreams, Gargler," he smirked. Blaine laughed, pushing the door open to the choir room.

The other Warblers turned when he came in, Sebastian immediately sizing Kurt up. "Don't be douche bags, alright?" Blaine warned.

"Aw, but Blaine, we're lovable douche bags, aren't we?" Nick said, batting his eyes. Blaine shook his head, showing Kurt to the couch.

"Just be respectful like your nannies taught you," he advised.

"You gonna spank us like they do too?" Jeff said, waggling his brows. Blaine winked.

"Just you, Jeff. Now shut up and sing."

Kurt was certainly impressed, to say the least. He listened to all six harmonies, plus one voice beat-boxing in the background. And then there was Blaine. His sweet, pure a cappella voice was like honey, sending goosebumps down his spine, causing him to stifle a shiver. He continued to listen, entranced. His heart fell a little when they stopped, simply because his ears had never been graced with a sound such as that before. He smiled and applauded nevertheless, truly amazed.

Blaine sauntered over to him, taking his hands in his. "Now," he whispered, mouth beside his ear while the others griped about errors in the piece, "that _wasn't_ our Sectionals number, but-"

"I hope not," Kurt snorted, teasing. Blaine chuckled.

"You're lucky you're cute," he said. He kissed him full on the mouth, tongue and all. Kurt cried out, briefly turning to jelly before pushing him away, blushing and smiling in embarrassment.

"_Blaine_," he hissed, stifling giggles. "There's a lot of people in here, we-"

"Let 'em look," he said, smiling against his lips and kissing him again. Sebastian glowered in their direction, despite how pointless it was.

_He can't fucking see you, remember?_ He snarled to himself. _He's not even that cute. Put a wig on him and he's an ugly girl. _

"Hey!" Wes barked, breaking the couple apart with his outburst. "Stop sucking face and get your ass over here and help the Baritones!"

"Watch your mouth," he snapped, patting Kurt's shoulder before he rejoined his choir members. Sebastian swaggered his way over, still looking Kurt over.

"Hi," he said, sitting beside him. Kurt looked toward him, slightly startled by the sudden presence. "Sorry, Sebastian Smythe." He held out his hand, smirk turning smug when Kurt didn't respond. "So you really are blind, huh?"

"Yes," Kurt said, cheeks reddening once he'd realized what had just happened. "You must have missed that memo gelling your hair in the bathroom for what I assumed was hours on end." Sebastian cocked his head.

"Cute little sense of smell you have. Like a dog, huh?" He asked. "So, how long have you and Blaine been together?" Kurt kept an even tone and an anything but real smile in place.

"We just got together today, actually. How long has he known you?" He shot, venom dripping from his controlled words.

"A month or two. We're pretty close," he assured.

"Funny," Kurt said, touching his chin. "For being such good friends, he's never mentioned you."

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

"Oh, don't worry," Kurt said, tone condescending, patting his knee. "You're not as forgettable as you think you are. Blaine just doesn't think you're important enough to mention, I guess."

Sebastian felt a wave of anger wash over him. He clenched his fists, taking a breath before speaking again. "So, you're certain this isn't part of some community service thing Blaine has to do after his last trip to juvie, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you sure Blaine isn't dating you out of pity? Because God knows _I_ can't think of anyone that would want to date someone who can't even _see_ me. And Blaine's so…"

"So what?" Kurt growled, the composure still perfectly placed on his face.

"Well, let's face it, gay-face, he's too good for you," Sebastian chuckled, ever-still smirking.

"Or maybe," Kurt offered, that waspish sharpness taking over his voice and his expression, "Blaine actually pays attention to me and not your desperate attempts for affection. And let's face it, Craigslist, I'm much better looking than you."

"You-"

"Are tired of hearing your stupid mouth? Yes, thank you for asking," he snapped. "I didn't ask for your opinion, nor do I give a damn about what you think of me or Blaine. Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I can't rip you apart, and let you remember that the next time you want to act like you're better than me because you can see. I can too, and let me tell you, what I see when you speak isn't very attractive."

"Kurt, you okay?" Blaine asked, joining the conversation, protective hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm fine," he smiled. "Just having a little…chat with Sebastian here." Sebastian nodded, returning the same fake, cheeky grin.

"Yeah," the Warbler replied. "Just talking." He turned his attention to Blaine, ignoring Kurt as if he wasn't even there. "So, Blaine, did you hear Cyclone of Death and Candor are having a concert Friday night?"

"I thought they didn't go on tour until April?" He said, obviously excited. Kurt frowned, looking up at him.

"'Cyclone of Death and Candor'?" He asked.

"Oh, you don't know?" Sebastian said, once again overly condescending. "They just so happen to be one of Blaine's favorite bands, and it _just so happens_ that I found out about the secret show they're doing Friday night right here in Westerville."

"Where?" Blaine demanded.

"Eleventh and Roe," he said. "Ten o'clock sharp. They lock the doors at ten-oh-one."

"We'll be there," Kurt said immediately, putting his hand over Blaine's.

"Kurt, you don't have to go if you don't want to. Their music isn't for everyone," he said.

"If it's something you like, then I'll support you," he said, smiling.

"You sure, Kurt?" Sebastian intervened. "Blaine and I could always go and you could stay home and knit… Can you people knit?"

"Hey—"

"We'll be there," Kurt said again, much more firm this time. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He stood, stalking away, dragging Blaine along with him, who followed, unsure of which emotion he was going to stick with just yet.

"Kurt. Kurt, slow down!" he said, trying to tug back and slow him down. Instead of staying with him, Kurt shook him off and kept walking. Blaine continued to jog after him, rounding a corner too late to see him fall flat on the marble staircase. He ran to him, holding his elbow to ease him up.

"I can do it!" He spat, tugging away from him, losing his balance and falling on his butt, looking defeated. Blaine sat beside him, looking at him, trying to figure out what to do. "I can do everything a normal person can! Except drive. I can't fucking drive."

"Kurt—"

"I know, I know it shouldn't bother me by now. Almost ten years of the same _shit_ over and over again; I should be used to it but…" He shook his head, tears in his eyes. "Why _are_ you with me, Blaine? You could have someone like Sebastian. Someone normal that's better looking, I'm sure," he laughed ruefully, bitter about his lack of sight for the first time since Blaine had met him. "Wait, I don't know, do I? How the fuck can I know? I don't even know what _I_ look like, how the fuck can I compare myself to _anyone_, I—" He broke off…then broke down, right there on the stairs.

"Hey, hey," Blaine said, taking him into his arms, running his fingers through his hair. "Kurt, it's alright. It's okay." Neither of them spoke for awhile, Kurt letting out some long pent-up energy, Blaine simply holding him, being there for him.

He waited until he'd calmed down before gently pressing his forehead into his hair, speaking softly, smiling gently. "Hey, Daredevil," he whispered. Kurt broke into his own smile. "You don't need to see to love someone, do you?" Kurt looked up, leaving both of their foreheads to press together.

"No," he said, sniffing. Blaine kissed him gently.

"You're perfect like this, okay?" He assured, touching his cheek, showing more of himself than he had ever dared before, allowing tenderness to seep from himself to Kurt, knowing that he needed this. "And you really don't have to go to that concert if you don't want to. I won't go either—"

"Oh, I'm going," he said darkly. "I'm not about to let that little brat get five minutes alone with you."

"Hey," Blaine said, soothing his anger with a single touch, softer than he'd ever allowed himself to be. "You want me to take you home?" Kurt nodded, ignoring that there were probably other people around and wrapping his arms around him, feeling safe.

"Do you ever get tired of smelling like cigarette smoke?" He teased, smiling at him. Blaine smiled back, taking his hand and helping him stand.

"I'll quit." He pushed the cane that Kurt had neglected to take back minutes before into his palm, smoothing his hair behind his ear. "You're perfect, Kurt." He blushed, turning redder when Blaine pecked his cheek, squeezing his hand.

* * *

><p>"What kind of concert?" Burt asked, looking over the paper at him.<p>

"The kind you listen to music at?" He said, tone snarky. "It's just a concert, Dad. It's not on a school night, I won't be out too late and I'm eighteen years-old." Burt looked at him.

"And it's all the way in Westerville?"

"If something happens I'll call you, okay?" He promised.

"I want to talk to Blaine first," he said firmly.

"Why now?" He wondered.

"Because I haven't talked to him face to face before," he said. "I'll just talk to him when he comes to pick you up, okay?"

"Uh, okay," he said, bopping up the stairs adding this to his list of worries, which included the biggest conundrum: what was he going to wear tonight?

He obviously didn't have any Tornado of Hate and Misery –or whatever they were called— paraphernalia to don himself with and he was really at a loss as to what someone wore to a concert, seeing as he'd never been to one before. At least, not in person. He'd watched several on VH1 but he got the feeling it wasn't the same.

He went through every shirt and pants combination he could think of in his wardrobe, _twice_ and still could find nothing deemed suitable to wear on such a date. He always tried to look his best when he was with Blaine…which was a little hard to do, considering.

He sighed and went through his newer clothing, finding a pair of pants he'd yet to wear yet. In this instance, black and white-striped pants that stuck to his legs like almost all his others did. He picked out a shirt; a red button up that was just a little too tight in the right places. That coupled with his boots and a leather tie hopefully made him presentable for the rest of the world.

Now was the tricky part. His hair.

* * *

><p>Blaine rang the doorbell at exactly nine o'clock, fussing with his unruly curls one more time before the door opened.<p>

However, the Hummel that looked back at him wasn't the one he was there to take out. "Um, I, uh, I'm here to pick up Kurt," he tried to say firmly, keeping eye-contact with the parent.

"Yeah, I know," he said, taking a step back. "He's not ready yet. Why don't you come have a seat?"

Blaine swallowed a little. This guy didn't like him. He looked at him the same way every other adult on the planet did. He could see the displeasure on his face, almost hear his thoughts as he took a seat on the couch.

_Punk. Worthless. Lowlife. Loser. Bad kid. Bad influence. Not good enough. Never amount to anything._ Yes, he knew those looks all too well.

"So, Blaine," he said, sitting down in his recliner, "how did you meet Kurt?"

"He got turned around at the park, so I walked him home," he said simply, excluding the part where his friends harassed him.

"That was awfully nice of you," he said, expression blank. "Helpin' out a handicapped kid."

"I don't think Kurt's handicapped," he said truthfully, never breaking away from his gaze, determined to show him he wasn't scared.

"Oh? You don't think my blind son is handicapped?"

"Kurt's really independent," Blaine said. "I don't call anyone that can do nearly everything a normal person can handicapped. He can't see, that doesn't mean he can't live." Burt studied him for a moment.

"You ever been arrested, Blaine?" He asked sternly.

"Yes," he said, teeth clenching. Here it was, the part where the parent sees what a naughty, naughty boy their child has been caught up with and needs to hide their child away from such a terrible influence immediately.

"For what?" He pressed. Blaine scoffed.

"Mr. Hummel, no offense, but I think you're asking me questions you already know the answer to," he said, leaning forward and smirking. Burt set his jaw, eyes hard.

"I just wanna know what a punk like you wants with my son," he demanded.

"Honestly?" Blaine said, quirking an eyebrow. "All I want from Kurt is to be his boyfriend. I want to be there for him when he needs me, know when to give him space when he doesn't. I want to be with him, not get with him, which is exactly what you've thought of me since I brought him home. Yeah, I've got a history, yeah, I wear leather and drive a motorcycle, yeah I've got some bad habits. But trust me man— sir, there isn't one of 'em I wouldn't kick for Kurt in a heartbeat. Because I want to be with him. I've already screwed up twice. I'm not about to let it happen again.

"What's the two—"

"Dad," Kurt said, finishing his descent down the stairs. "Blaine'll have me home by one, okay? That's when the concert's over, right?" He said, turning to Blaine, who nodded.

"Yeah, I think that's what Sebastian said," he said, doing his best not to _drool_ over this boy. Kurt grabbed his coat, which Blaine helped him ease on, and took Blaine's hand, leading him out the door. "'Bye, Dad!"

Blaine sighed when the door shut behind them, rubbing his temples.

"He means well," Kurt assured, touching his cheek.

"I just…_really_ don't like talking to parents," he admitted. "I'm screwed no matter what I say, ya know?" Kurt kissed him, trying to distract him and succeeding.

"Let's go to the concert. I really would rather not talk about my dad right now, alright?" He said, smiling. Blaine smiled back, kissing him again, shoving his hands inside his coat just to touch him for a minute. Kurt sighed, slightly taken aback by the touch but allowed it all the same.

"You look fucking amazing," Blaine breathed, lips beside his ear. Kurt blushed all the way up to them, chewing his lip.

"I try," he said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. Blaine kissed him again, a little rougher and much deeper this time.

"Gonna be really hard to keep my hands off you," he growled, voice low and quiet. Kurt grinned, kissing down his jaw-line to his neck, something he'd yet to do until now. Blaine's breath hitched, still amazed that Kurt could make him feel like this when all the others he'd been with couldn't come close.

"You'll just have to see how strong you really are, Mr. Anderson," he smirked, sucking at his pulse.

"_Tease,_" Blaine growled. Kurt giggled, pulling away much too soon, pecking him on the lips.

"Only for you," he winked, sauntering over to the bike and putting on his helmet. Blaine shook his head, lowering his blood pressure and breathing slowly, thinking –not for the first or last time— that Kurt Hummel would kill him.


	12. Fight Fire with Fire

12

**Fight Fire with Fire**

Kurt's face and fingers were numb from cold when they stopped, ever-still exhilarated by the bike. Blaine grinned when he giggled, stepping off the bike and taking Kurt's hands after he took the helmet on.

"I'm pretty sure that will always be fun," he grinned. Blaine pecked his cheek.

"How about when you freeze to death?" He offered, grinning. Kurt laughed, leaning against his chest.

"I think you can do a pretty good job of keeping me warm." Blaine caught his lips, ducking to find them and grinning.

"Alright, let's go," he whispered, linking his fingers in his.

As they got closer to their destination, the vibrations in the ground rattling up Kurt's legs, chattering his teeth. He took a breath, suddenly nervous.

"Hey," he heard Sebastian stay, leaning against the building. Blaine rolled his eyes, smirking. Kurt gave his spiteful smile, eyes crinkling.

"Oh, I thought I smelled Hollister excrement," he remarked. Blaine stifled laughter, playing it off as a cough. Sebastian ignored it.

"Wasn't sure if you guys were coming,"

"Oh, I guess we are late, huh?" Kurt giggled, hooking his arm in Blaine's and holding him possessively. "Sorry, Blaine pulled over about halfway here. Something about just _having_ to kiss me right then and there." Blaine grinned, only nodding because of how flawless and smooth the lie was. Sebastian pursed his lips, nodding.

"Right. Shall we?"

The vibrations and humming in Kurt's ears only grew worse the closer he got to the building. He pushed his ticket into someone's hand, clinging to Blaine's sleeve as he stepped into the over-crowded warehouse.

The uneasiness crept into his stomach, quickening his heart-rate and sinking his stomach. He clicked his tongue, unable to understand any of the chaos going on around him. He clung to Blaine's sleeve for dear life, truly blind for the first time in a long time.

"What's wrong, Kurt?" Sebastian said in his ear. "A little crowded? Little loud?"

He knew. He knew the concert was going to be in this tiny space with this many people. Kurt could only imagine what the noise would be like.

The amp rang, the high-pitched sound causing discomfort around the room, cursing from Blaine, a staggered step and hands over ears from Kurt.

Sebastian pushed past him, disconnecting him from Blaine, gaining his attention, taking it away from Kurt only for a moment. That's all you need in a crowd, one moment before people gush through the gap you've now created, shuffling to get closer to the stage, the exit for a cigarette or the port-a-potties outside.

"Blaine!" He called, fruitlessly clicking, afraid to feel around, knowing he'd find nothing but bodies of surly men and agitated women. "BLAINE!" Still nothing. A guitar strummed, the energy in the room amplifying. Whistles pierced the air with general cheering, disorienting the boy more. "Blaine!"

"Kurt!" Blaine elbowed and shoved through people, the determination and venom in his expression barring the abused from saying something. He didn't stop until he reached him, holding his shoulders. "You alright?"

"It's crowded," he breathed, breath short. "It's crowded and loud. I don't know where I'm supposed to look, I…"

"Do we need to go?" He asked, searching his face.

"No, no, I'm alright. I'll be okay, I—"

The music started, the first notes resonating through the too-small space, the amp not twelve feet from them.

The singer starts his screeching and lyrics, the entire band throbbing and thrumming throughout the room. It takes less than a minute for Kurt to scream, his hands clamped tight over his ears, blood starting to drip through. "Kurt!" He started pushing through the crowd, shoving to the door, guiding Kurt through it, getting him out and away from the awful noise.

Tears were in Kurt's eyes, shameful ones that burned and boiled in his retinas.

_God damn it, why can't I do ANYTHING RIGHT?_

"Kurt, hey, are you okay?" Blaine asked, frantic, holding his shoulders, trying to meet his eyes. "Do I need to take you to the emergency room? We can go right now," he assured, nodding frantically. "Kurt, what can I do?"

"Shh!" Kurt hissed, taking choking breaths. "Shh…" Eyes still closed, he touched Blaine's cheek, his bloodied hand still on his slightly leaking ear. "Give me a second," he whispered, feeling the bass resonate inside of him. "Can we get farther away?" Blaine scooped him up without hesitation, carrying him back to the bike, desperate to do _something_ for him. Anything. He hurt him again. "Blaine, I'm alright," he said softly, using the bike to hold himself up.

"You sure you don't need to go to the hospital?" He asked, frantic.

"I'm alright. It stopped, see?" He held out the clean side of his handkerchief, sighing. "Blaine, go back inside and watch the concert. I'll stay out here." Blaine frowned.

"I'm not goin' back in there without you," he said. Kurt shook his head.

"Blaine, go. It's alright. I'll be fine out here," he assured, touching his sleeve. "You were so excited about this, don't let me ruin it for you." Blaine shook his head, eyes flicking to the building.

"I was excited because I was gonna be with you," he said. "Not really any point if you're not there. I'll go tell Sebastian…" He paused, something suddenly dawning on him. His fists clenched, jaw flexed, teeth ground, blood pressure rising. "That son of a bitch," he growled.

"Hey!"

"Speak of the dumbass…" Kurt muttered.

"What happened back there?" Sebastian asked, looking to Kurt. "Aw, did things get a little rowdy for you? You should think about getting a seeing-eye dog. Or maybe someone besides Blaine to be your baby sitter all the time."

"HEY—"

"Blaine, I've got it," Kurt said, tossing the rag aside, stepping closer to him. "So you really think I'm helpless, don't you?" He challenged. "Just because I can't see, right?"

"I think _useless_ might be the better term."

"Useless," Kurt nodded, smirking. He shrugged out of his jacket, shoving it into Blaine's hands. "Alright. If I'm so useless, prove it. Fight me."

"Excuse me?" He snorted. Kurt's smirk grew.

"Fight me. Unless you're scared?"

"I'm not about to have charges pressed against me for _beating_ a blind kid," he said, stepping closer, just inches away from Kurt's face.

"If you're scared, just say so," he whispered. Sebastian snorted. "Then let's go."

Blaine watched, frozen, smiling, swallowing hard.

_This is hot._

They stood there for a moment. Kurt shoved him. "Come on. You think you're better than me, prove it. Hit me." He pushed again. Sebastian flushed with anger. Kurt got in his face again, seething, lip twitching in a snarl. "Hit me."

A moment later Sebastian's anticipated fist collided with his jaw, staggering him backward. Kurt felt blood in his mouth, his lip split. He grinned.

"There!" Sebastian yelled. "Happy now?"

"I'm sick of your mouth," Kurt said. "I'm tired of you being around my boyfriend and treating him like a piece of meat." He clicked his tongue a few times, finding the lanky teen easily, bringing a heavy upper-cut to his face.

Blaine watched as they tussled back and forth, punch after punch, Kurt managing to dodge half of the Warbler's, tiring him, wearing him down. He finally kicked his feet out from under him, smiling when the satisfying crunch and groan that followed. He pressed his shoe into his jugular, hindering his attempts to catch his breath again.

"Stay away from my boyfriend," he growled. "Stay away from him, or I'll give you an encore performance."

He turned, taking his jacket back from Blaine and slipping it on. He grabbed his collar, yanking him toward him and kissing him hard. Blaine stared at him when they broke apart, breathing hard. "Wow," he whispered. Kurt took deep breaths, a bruise forming on his cheek.

"You wanna go back to my house and order in?" He asked, voice rough. "We could watch a movie or something—" Blaine grabbed his face again, suckling his lips, feeling him blush.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life," he said, lips still a breath away from each other. Kurt blushed. "You really are my Daredevil, huh?"

"Sorry I ruined your concert," he whispered. Blaine shook his head.

"You didn't ruin it. I like fight club better anyway," he whispered. Kurt grinned. "C'mon, let's go."

* * *

><p>The house reeked of Chinese food when Burt came home, a movie playing in the front room. He peered around the corner.<p>

Kurt and Blaine were on the couch, Blaine's head resting in his son's lap, smiling as Kurt spoke, telling a story about something Rachel did last week in Glee Club. He hung off of every word, eyes sparkling as he stared at him. They giggled together, ignoring the movie while Kurt dropped a piece of orange chicken in Blaine's mouth.

Burt looked at his son, who was so happy that—

Wait.

"Kurt, what the hell happened to your face?" He barked, stalking into the room. Blaine sat up, keeping his mouth shut.

"I got in a fight," he shrugged.

"Someone kit you? Who the hell—"

"This guy wouldn't shut up and he kept hitting on Blaine. I got tired of him making fun of me because I'm blind so I told him to hit me. We fought, I won, Blaine and I got Chinese and decided to watch _Mean Girls,_" he said simply. "Is that alright?"

"No, it's not— Wait, you _won_?" Burt said, trying to hide the overwhelming sense of pride that he had at this moment.

"Yeah. I took those self defense classes a few years ago, remember?" He said, shrugging it off.

"I remember you telling me that you didn't like violence and didn't see the point of them," he said pointedly. Kurt shrugged.

"I guess I was just that angry," he said. Burt smiled.

"So…was this kid bleedin' or…?" He ventured.

"Yeah, he was," Blaine grinned. Kurt shrugged. Burt patted his son's shoulder.

"Don't stay up too late," he said, stepping out of the room.

Blaine leaned against Kurt again, sighing. "Didn't even look at me," he mumbled.

"Better than grilling you on your criminal activity, isn't it?" He said. Blaine shrugged.

"I guess so," he smiled, kissing his cheek.

They sat in silence for awhile, watching Regina George scream with the protein bar in her mouth, causing laughter from the couple. Kurt rubbed Blaine's forehead, content and warm, absently lulling him to sleep. Blaine leaned into his touch and his stomach, peaceful.

He woke three hours later with a start, his heart pounding, waking Kurt immediately.

"_Shit!_" He hissed, pulling on his shoes and grabbing his keys.

"What's wrong?" Kurt mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"I was supposed to be home two hours ago!" He said. "Fuck! My dad's gonna beat my ass! God damn it!"

"Your dad what?" Kurt said. Blaine froze, turning to look at him.

"I…I'll talk to you about this later, okay?" He said softly, kissing his cheek. "I really have to go. I'll call you, I promise."

"Text me when you get home," Kurt said, pale and fearful.

"I'll be alright," he assured. Kurt touched his face.

"You don't know if it will do you?" he asked quietly. Another swift kiss instead of an answer.

"I'll see you later, baby." He rushed out the door, his bike roaring to life and fading away into the night. Kurt stayed on the couch, staring at his hands, out of his mind with worry.

_He hits him_, he thought miserably. _His dad hits him._

He waited, and waited for a message to come through, for a flicker that Blaine was okay and what he feared most wasn't true.

Finally, his phone chirped, _Text from: Blaine._

He ripped it open, listening to the computerized voice as it read his message.

"_I'm alright. I'll see you as soon as I can. I'll miss you, baby."_

He texted back as fast as he could, worried and frustrated tears in his eyes. "_I'll miss you too. Be safe."_

He bowed his head, wishing now that he was with Blaine, holding him, telling him it was okay if that was what he needed.

He kissed his phone, wrapping his arms around his chest, smelling Blaine on his clothes, hoping and praying that he was alright.

* * *

><p>He wasn't.<p>

He nursed the deep cut above his eye, picking pieces of glass out of the dotting specks on his face. That's what happens when you have a half-full whiskey bottle thrown at your head.

He winces, knowing he needs stitches but forces himself to endure. To clot the blood with another rag that'll end up as bloody as the other ones and pray it just stops. He looks at Kurt's text and chuckles to himself.

"_Be safe." I wish I had that option, baby. I really do. _


	13. Blanketed in Darkness

13

**Blanketed in Darkness**

"Kurt?" Burt said for the third time, finally gaining his attention, not saying a word.

"Yeah?" He croaked, the first word he'd said all day.

"Buddy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he whispered.

"Kurt, it's noon. You haven't moved from that spot all day, you haven't even changed outta those clothes. Now what's going on?" He said, concerned, sitting beside him.

"I can't tell you," he said simply.

Burt sighed. "Did Blaine do something? He didn't try anything with you, did—?"

"No!" He said defensively. "He wouldn't hurt me like that."

"Then is he in some sort of legal trouble?"

"_No_, Dad. It's nothing like that, alright?" He said firmly. "He didn't do anything wrong, he…" He shut his eyes. "I can't tell you, yet. I haven't even talked to him about it yet."

Burt looked at his son, touching his shoulder. "So he didn't hurt you?" He shook his head. "And he didn't hurt someone else?"

"No," he said softly. "He's coming over to talk to me about it today." Burt nodded.

"Okay. You want me to leave you alone?" He said gently.

Kurt shook his head. "Can you stay?" Burt settled into his seat, wrapping his arm around his son's shoulders.

"It's alright, Kurt," he assured. "It'll be okay."

"I don't know, Dad," he breathed. "I really don't know."

* * *

><p>Nine stitches above his eye and enough sleep to make up for all of the blood he lost. He was smart enough to ask for a plastic surgeon this time to keep it from becoming a nasty scar he'd have to live with for the rest of his life. A few months ago he wouldn't have bothered with it. He had someone to look good for now.<p>

"Blaine—" Dr. Alberts began.

"Don't."

"Blaine, please, talk to the social worker."

"I've talked to social workers," he growled. "No one does anything. Nothing helps, so leave me _alone_." He stalked out, angry, hating everything about his existence.

He didn't want to talk about his abusive father and alcoholic mother. Especially not to Kurt. He didn't want to see that sweet face in pain. He didn't know how he'd react to telling him.

Kurt deserved to know anything he wanted. Why he acted the way he did, why he was so fucking angry at everything and that he didn't want to be this way anymore. Well, being an asshole was fun most of the time.

Driving to Kurt's house was agonizing. The anticipation was what was killing him the most, just getting it out and telling him. But what if he dumped him because of this? What if he decided it was too much baggage and he didn't want to deal with it? He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, but every time he turned from them he only found exponentially more painful ones.

He hesitated walking to the door, hesitated knocking, waited through the unbearable seconds of Kurt coming to open the door. _Don't leave me,_ he begged silently. _Please. Not now. Not when I found out how much I need you._

"Who is it?" A voice through the door.

"It's me, baby," he whispered.

Kurt smiled when he opened the door, looking weary. His outfit was so simple; just a white long-sleeved shirt and loose-fitting jeans. He was still the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever seen. "Hey," he said happily. Blaine smiled back, immediately reaching for his hand, reaching for someone to keep him grounded and safe with him.

"Hey," he said. Kurt touched his face with his free hand, touching him just to touch him, and admittedly to see what kind of mood he was in.

He gasped when he felt the edge of his stitches, immediately retracting from there and cupping his cheek. "Blaine, what happened?"

"He threw a whiskey bottle at my head, a piece caught me in the eye," he mumbled. Kurt folded his lips, thumbing his skin. "Do you want to talk out here, or…?"

"No," Kurt said, snapping out of his pained daze. "No, come in."

He led him to the less-traveled front room, sitting down on the couch and refusing to let go of his hand unless he wanted to.

He'd been aware of Blaine's trembling since they'd joined hands, and it was getting worse the longer they sat there.

Blaine swallowed hard, unable to get past the stone lodged there. "Where do you want me to start?" He whispered. Kurt smiled gently, giving his hand a squeeze and kissing his cheek.

"Wherever you need to."

* * *

><p>I came out in eighth grade. I was sick of pretending to be something I wasn't, sick of the awkward conversations with my friends about how girls turned us on, sex dreams we had about them, stuff like that.<p>

I had sex dreams, they sure as hell weren't about girls though. No, mine were about muscles and hot skin, men's hands touching me, dicks touching mine, in my hands, in my mouth and _god_ I wanted it so bad.

Sorry, sorry, I'm making you uncomfortable.

Point being, I had urges, but not with girls. And I just…I just couldn't take it anymore.

I got in at least twelve fights that first week. My parents found out on accident.

When I got home…my dad beat me until I couldn't move. He screamed at me, called me everything he could think of. My mother watched. She just, just sat there and watched him do it. That day was the first time he chained me to my bed. He got one out of the garage, wrapped it around my neck and locked it to the bed. I didn't go back to school for two weeks.

I spent two weeks asking permission to piss. Two weeks begging for something to eat. I-I hated it. He beat me every time he came home, dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night and screamed in my face. He threw me down on the floor once. He put his knee in the crook of my arm and kept one hand on my neck to keep me still. He took out a knife and cut fag into my arm.

He did finally let me go, but the abuse never stopped.

He beats me, mostly. I can't remember the last time he called me Blaine. He calls me faggot, queer, cocksucker. I don't know how many times he said he has a son and a faggot. Yeah, I have a brother. I fight with my whole family all the time. All. The. Time. And I'm so tired, Kurt. I'm so, so tired of fighting with him, of fighting with everyone.

School got worse. I started smoking after Christmas that year. I stole more, cussed more, got suspended more, detentions, fighting anyone that whispered and glanced in my direction.

I got jumped after a dance once. I didn't go in, I wasn't allowed at after school events or anything like that. The guy I was with, Jared, he didn't care. He just liked hanging out with me. We stayed outside, smoking, shooting the shit, nothing that interesting but he liked it. His parents didn't mind me much, either.

There were three of them. I told Jared to run, I'd take them. They caught him anyway. They effectively kicked mine and Jared's ass. They beat the living crab out of us. Never spent so much time in the hospital. They broke almost every bone in my hands, kicked the shit out of my face, broke my ribs and my collarbone. One of them stabbed me in the stomach. Dumb mother fucker missed all of my vital organs

Yeah, baby, it hurt. Hurt like you wouldn't believe.

Kurt, I've done a lot of stupid shit. I smoke pot, I used to use heroin just to make it all go away, used ecstasy to disappear into my feelings. Before I met you I was at a different party every night, drinking everything I could get a hold of, fucking whichever pretty boy was closest. I steal, I intimidate people, I _hurt_ people and think it's funny, I smash windows, pick fights, get thrown in juvie nonstop and I hate it. I hate every second of my life that I'm not spending with you and I'm…I'm so sorry I couldn't be more for you, that I couldn't be better.

Damn it, Kurt…

I HATE MYSELF!

* * *

><p>Kurt heard his voice break, heard the shuddering breaths and sure enough, when he touched his face his cheek was wet.<p>

Big, tough, scary, rowdy, tongue-pierced and probably tattooed Blaine Anderson was crying.

Kurt gingerly took him into his arms, holding him. "Shh," he soothed. "Hush, hush, it's okay."

"Sorry," he gulped, trying to pull away. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's alright," he said softly, holding him fast. "Shh…." He ran his fingers through his curls, smoothing them. They stayed there on the couch, both crying, locked together. "Blaine, please…don't hate yourself, okay?"

"Why?" He spat, self-loathing dripping from the syllable.

"Because not everyone hates you," he assured. "I don't."

"You don't?" He asked, looking up at him, right into eyes that couldn't look back.

"No," Kurt breathed. "I love you." He wasn't sure if he meant to say it or not. It was too early to say that, much too early. But it was too late, it was out now. Blaine blanched, gasping softly, blushing as well.

"You do?"

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling stupid. "I mean, I think I might— I don't know." He shut his eyes, blushing furiously. "I really care about you, and I think I love— but I shouldn't have said—"

"Kurt," Blaine whispered, stopping him. He leaned toward him, pressing a dry, gentle kiss on his lips.

"I think I might love you too, even if it's too early to say so." They kissed languidly for some time, Blaine still crying silently.

"We need to do something about him," he whispered. "There has to be someone we can talk to or…?"

"I've tried," he muttered. "I've tried getting help and it never works. No one listens. As soon as they find out I'm gay and having trouble and they stop listening, like it's my job to suffer if I'm gay. No one listened to me but you."

"Well, I have to listen, don't I?" Kurt teased, trying to make him smile. It worked. Kurt touched his face again, feeling the anguish in the lines of his face.

"Come here." He held him again. "Shh, I'm here. I've got you, it's alright. It's okay. Shh…" Blaine refused to cry anymore, refused to cause Kurt anymore pain, and if he cried Kurt would cry to. He'd made him do that enough.

"Can I stay here for a minute?" He asked.

"As long as you need me," he whispered.

Hours may have passed. Neither of them noticed or moved. Kurt held him against his chest, kissing him softly from time to time.

"You really love me?" Blaine finally said.

"I think that's what it is," he said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Nothing that's ever been this strong or…or this wonderful. So yes, Blaine, I love you."

"Guess we fell fast, didn't we?" He smiled. Kurt grinned back. This Blaine, soft, sweet, kind and gentle Blaine. That's what he wished the world would see every day. His heart, caged, stitched and battered though it may be, was warm, open and willing to love. _Needing _to love, or at least _be_ loved.

Burt peered into the room, looking at his son, who looked incredibly sad, his nose pinked, eyes wet from crying. Blaine was in the same state, curled against Kurt and squeezing him tight, all anger and scowl gone from his expression. He looked like…well, like a scared little boy. He could see it wavering, though. He could literally see the wall putting itself back together.

He turned, taking another moment to watch them, knowing there had to be something he could do, but he wouldn't interfere unless Kurt asked him to.

"Hey, Blaine?" Kurt whispered.

"Yeah?"

"You want to know how I lost my sight?" He said tentatively. Blaine looked up at him, searching his expression.

"If you want to tell me," he said, not pressuring him into anything.

Kurt took a breath, squeezing his hand for reassurance. "I was eight, riding home in the car with my mom. We were just coming home from the zoo and… and then we were flying. I thought we were, anyway. The car flipped over, everything moving so slowly. Then we hit, and rolled, and rolled, and rolled. I don't know how many times before the whole thing skidded across the road and slammed into something.

"I remember how bad my head hurt, the glass all around me, blood rushing to my head because I was upside down. I was screaming. I don't know when I started, but I was then. There was glass all over the ground. And blood. So much blood. My new toy gorilla was drenched in it."

"Was it yours?" Blaine whispered, hardly audible.

"No," Kurt said, equally as quiet. "It was my mom's. I was screaming at her. 'Mommy, it's getting dark. Mommy, why won't you answer me? It's dark, Mommy! Help!' I was so confused, so afraid. And Mom…Mom… I thought she was looking at me for awhile. But she wasn't looking at anything. Mom was dead. She was dead when the drunk driver hit us. Snapped her neck. The last thing I remember seeing before everything went black was her open, dead eyes staring at me. I haven't seen anything since.

"Dad had to deal with so much at once. A dead wife and a blind little boy. When he held me for the first time I begged him to turn on the lights because I was afraid of the dark. He rocked me and told me everything was gonna be alright even though it wasn't.

"Those first few days I refused to let go of him, so scared I'd get lost if I did. He told me that this dark wouldn't hurt me, light would now. Hurt my eyes. I had to wear sunglasses outside all the time, I still do. I went to special classes where they taught me Braille, taught Dad things to put around the house so I could get around. They taught me to be independent. That's how I get to go to high school. I caught on to everything really quickly and managed to be really good at echo-location. Not a lot of people can do that." He took another breath, tears on his cheeks. "That's it, that's what happened."

They weren't sure who was holding who now. Blaine worked his arms around Kurt's neck, gently rubbing his back. "It's okay," he assured. "It's okay that you can't see. It's alright. You're beautiful, you're smart, you're funny. You're perfect, Kurt. Just like this."

Kurt laughed softly, smiling ruefully.

"How can someone be perfect when they're broken?" He gulped, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Blaine shook his head, smiling, holding his face.

"No, no, Kurt, you're not broken. You're so much better than the rest of the world. You're honest, you're true. You get to know people by what they say and do, not what they look like. You love people, not faces and that…that's what makes you perfect, what makes you better than everyone else. That's what let's you love me when everyone else turns me away and I love for that. I love you so much for taking a minute to actually look at me and not judge me by what I look like." He kissed him deeply, still holding his face. "You're not broken. You're an angel."

He held him, rocking him gently.

"Blaine, I think my dad can help you," he whispered.

"What can he do?"

"I don't know," he said truthfully, "but he has this way of being able to get things done for people he cares about."

"He doesn't care about me," he scoffed. Kurt shook his head.

"You don't know that."

Blaine looked at him, chewing his lower lip. "Okay. But…but not today. I can't today." Kurt nodded.

"That's alright," he whispered. "It's perfectly okay."

More silence where they said so much without saying a word, kissing and holding each other.

"I have to go," Blaine whispered, finally breaking the silence.

"Stay, please," Kurt begged.

"I can't," he said, squeezing him tighter, wishing he could stay right here, to drift off to sleep in Kurt's arms, so warm and soft and comfortable in a world so alien to his own. A happy one. He could pretend he was happy here. He could pretend the monster at his house didn't exist. "If I don't he'll…" Kurt shut his eyes.

"Please tell me when you get home. Let me know you're okay," he begged. Blaine nodded, kissing him again. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said, heart swollen. "I'll be here at two tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Perfect," he assured. One more kiss. He stood, squeezing his hand again.

"'Bye, Kurt."

"'Bye."

* * *

><p>(2:34 p.m.) From: Kurt <em>Where are you?<em>

(2:46 p.m.) From: Kurt _Did something happen?_

(3:02 p.m.) From: Kurt _Blaine, did you forget? Are you running late? What's going on? Please, talk to me!_

(3:06 p.m.) From: Kurt _Please!_

(3:14 p.m.) From: Kurt God_ damn it, Blaine, TALK TO ME!_

(3:18 p.m.) From: Kurt _Did he hurt you?_

(4:01 p.m.) From: Kurt _I'm coming to get you. Hang on, baby, I'm coming to get you. _

* * *

><p><em>Move. Move. Please, something…<em>

_No. It's too hard. I can't. I can't it's too hard. _

_Breathing. It hurts._

_Can't speak. _

_There's so much blood._

_I'm cold._

_Kurt._

_I need Kurt. _

_Breathe. Blink. Swallow. Chain digs deeper in my throat. _

_Phone buzzes again. _

"K-Kuh-Kur_…_" _Chain digs deeper._

_Cry. Still hurts._


	14. Black Hole

14

**Black Hole**

_Faster, faster, we have to go faster than this. He's hurt, he has to be. He could be dying right now and no one would ever know. Oh God, he's all alone. What if he's scared? What if he's crying out for me and I'm not there? God damn it, Finn-_

"Drive faster!" He barked, desperation and tears in his voice.

"I'm going as fast as I can! It's not gonna help if we get pulled over while we're trying to get to him!" He said, weaving through traffic, staying in the left lane as much as possible. "I still think we should've called Burt-"

"He wouldn't have been there in time. He would've called the police and told them to go over there, and the same thing would happen that happens every time the cops go to Blaine's house, _NOTHING!_" He was so angry, so hurt, so scared. He just wanted to get to him, wanted to hold him in his arms and know personally that he was alright.

"Kurt," Finn said steadily, glancing at him, grasping his shoulder to ground him, to steady him. "It's not gonna help Blaine if you're all worked up like this either. Just take a few deep breaths. We're almost there."

_Blaine could be dead by the time we get there,_ he thought, tears welling in his eyes. _And then you'll be all alone in this black hell again. _

"I should've told Dad when he was over yesterday. This wouldn't have happened," he breathed.

"C'mon, man, you can't blame yourself for this. Blaine could be alright; we don't know yet," he said gently. Kurt shook his head, unable to look at anything to distract him, being left to be plagued with his thoughts and echoes of Blaine on his hands and his lips.

"Just drive, Finn."

* * *

><p><em>Alone.<em>

_Kurt. _

_Please help me. _

_Heart beat…I can feel it…slow. Too slow. _

_Because I'm cold?_

_Because I can't move?_

_Am I dying?_

_Probably._

_Would've wanted this but then…then Kurt._

_So cold…too cold._

_Pain. Too much of-_

"Uhn…" A quiet, nearly inaudible moan. Noise echoes in the distance.

_Coming back to finish…_

_No. No, Kurt! I need Kurt, he doesn't know…_

_Blood. Sweat. Tears. All over me. Freezing. Can't shiver anymore. God it hurts…_

"Mmn…" Another weak, whimpered sound.

"Blaine?"

_Kurt?_

"Blaine, talk to me, baby! Where are you? C'mon, Blaine make another noise!"

"Kur-Kuh- Guh…" More tears spilling from his eyes, still unable to move, the room before him swirling and hazed in a fog so dense he couldn't see.

"I'm coming, baby, I'm coming!"

Kurt felt his way into his room, hearing quiet, short, ragged gasps coming from across the room. "Blaine?" He clicked his tongue, feeling the room around him, feeling the bleak, freezing air that clung to your skin and sank through to your bones. He held his hands out, searching for him. "Blaine, talk to me if you can, baby."

Blaine tried to make another sound, the chain dug too deep in his throat for him to try. He tried as hard as he could to say his name, only managing a quiet whine. It was enough.

Kurt turned, reaching out for him, feeling around in the dark for him. He found the edge of a bed, slowly walking his hands up, feeling what little heat his body had left to radiate. He reached out, finding his shoulder. Blaine gasped.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt sighed, searching for his face, the hand on his shoulder slipping to his back, finding lukewarm liquid when he did. "Oh my god!" He knew what this was, and it certainly wasn't water. Not when it was this thick, this clingy thing that seeped into the grooves of your fingertips and collected in sluggish drops before falling. Blood.

And Blaine was drenched in it. "Oh God, Blaine." He found his face, holding it in his palm, feeling swelling, bruises, cuts…and tears.

"K-Kur-" He started to cough, the chain Kurt had yet to find rattling softly.

"Shh, don't talk, don't talk. What's that noise? Huh?" He asked rhetorically, feeling down his cheek and his jaw, shushing him softly. He stifled a scream when he found the chain, which had dug itself into his flesh, biting, tearing, holding him like a dog too vicious for the regular world. "Oh my god!" Tears sprang to his eyes. Blaine whimpered softly, leaning into Kurt's warmth. "Shh, shh, it's okay, honey. It's okay, I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? Finn and I are gonna get you out and take you far away from here, okay?" He searched frantically for the end of it, trying to get it off. Blood quickly slicked his fingers, making the tears and sobs harder to keep back. Blaine whimpered every so often, crying.

"Finn!" Kurt yelled, voice wavering. "Finn, I need you!" He ran his fingers through his curls, finding them matted with blood in places, his scalp and his skin reeking of something else, something sickly that had long since dried. "Shh, shh, hush. It's alright. Shh…I've got you." He let his fingers trail down his back, gingerly, trying not to touch any open wounds, just trying to see what he was wearing, to see just how much pain he was in. A dry sob worked its way out when all he found was the fabric of his boxer briefs. "Baby…"

"What's- Oh my god," Finn stammered, stumbling into the _freezing _room. "What happened?" He rushed over to the wide open window, getting sprinkled with the few snow flurries that had started to fall outside as he shut it tight.

"I-I can't get this chain off," Kurt said, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to stay strong for the wounded boy he was holding.

"Shit," Finn breathed. "Here, watch out." He gently pushed Kurt back, swimming into Blaine's view much too quickly for his injured vision's liking. "It's alright, it's alright, Blaine. Just hang on a second," he said, his own tone betraying him. "Hang on and I'll get this off, okay?" He gave a small nod, looking so small as he started to shiver again. His face was beaten, both eyes black, nose probably broken, cuts on his cheeks. But the chain looked the worst. The flesh surrounding it was ragged, wounds set deep, as if he'd been drug by this thing. He looked for what was holding it there, searching through the blood and skin, his stomach turning but he had to ignore it. He had to. Blaine was dying and the only way to get him out of here was by getting this off of him.

"Okay, I need you to hold really still, okay?" He whispered, finally finding a small padlock linking the two chains together. He searched his jacket pockets, thanking God for Rachel when he found a bobby pin there leftover from when she'd worn it yesterday. "Just hold still. Puck showed me how to work through locks like this. You've met Puck, right?"

Kurt sat at the end of the bed, extending himself almost awkwardly to keep holding his hand, astounded by what his brother was doing. Calm, collected, talking to Blaine to get his mind on something beside the fact that he was chained to his own bed, almost frozen and bled to death and in his underwear in front of a near-stranger.

"Alright, just another second, lemme get this off, okay? Just hold really still…"

Painstakingly, Finn urged the chain from around his neck, wincing when he cried out or whimpered. "It's okay, it's okay. Just another second and you can go back with Kurt, alright? Just hang on."

The chain fell to the floor with a clatter, causing Kurt to jump. Blaine gasped, filling his deprived lungs with air, coughing and only making the pain inside and outside his throat that much worse.

Kurt was instantly with him again, carefully gathering him in his arms, holding him close. "Shh, it's alright, Blaine. It's okay. You're safe. You're gonna be alright."

"I'll get him some clothes," Finn said softly, going to the dresser.

"You don't ever have to come back here," Kurt assured, kissing his temple. Blaine used what little strength he had left to hold Kurt's hand, so weary, so close to fading into the darkness that had claimed him into sleep once before, when he thought he would never wake again. But he had. That's all that mattered. He was still fighting.

Finn came back, pressing a thick sweater that read OU in faded red letters and a pair of sweats into Kurt's hands.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Could you pack him a bag?" Finn nodded, leaving again.

"Blaine, will your parents be back soon?" Kurt asked, carefully lying him down and easing the sweatpants over his legs. He shook his head, shutting his eyes, tears streaking. Kurt reached up, holding his face. "What?" Another shake. "Okay. We'll leave soon, I promise."

He gingerly, cautiously pulled the sweater over his head, hating himself so much for every whimper and cry of pain that Blaine uttered.

"Shh, shh… I'm so sorry."

"Let's go," Finn said, doing another sweep of the room to make sure he didn't miss anything essential.

Getting Blaine into the SUV downstairs was difficult and gut-wrenching. Blaine was drenched in sweat by the time they got him lied down in the backseat, his head resting in Kurt's lap, shuddering with pain and the slow return of body heat. Kurt rubbed his shoulders, and the less tender areas of his arms, putting his hands inside the pullover just to offer extra warmth. At least he was shivering now.

"God, Blaine, what did he do to you?" He whispered. Blaine shut his eyes, whimpering.

"_The fuck were you doing with that boy Friday night?" The father demanded, shoving his child against the wall, pressing his forearm into his neck. _

"_Nothing!" _

"_I saw you fucking kiss him, you lying, cocksucking queer!" Punch, throw, fall, kick, punch. "Now what were you doing with that faggot?" He bellowed. _

_Blaine looked up at him, his eye swelling already, blood in his mouth. "Don't you call him that." He stood slowly, still staring him down. "Don't you _ever_ talk about him like that again, you miserable drunk mother fucker!" _

That's what did it. That's what did this to him. That's what got him tied down and cut up. That's what got the bottle of beer poured over his head. That's what got the threat of having his dick cut off. That's what got him dragged from his room to the bathroom by the chain where he was burned with his mother's curling iron over and over again and then dunked into a bathtub full of ice water.

It was worth defending Kurt, though.

"Shh, shh…I'm here. I've got you," he said softly, pecking his cheek. "Finn, we need to take him to the hospital."

"Nn-no," Blaine croaked, shaking his head. "F-fi-ind me. He-he'll f-find m-m-me."

"Shh, shh, don't speak. Don't speak, it's okay. Hush, hush."

"Kurt, where am I goin'?" Finn asked, frantic.

"Home, just take us home."

* * *

><p>Burt frowned when he entered the house, finding it empty. "Boys?" He called. No answer.<p>

He checked for a note, for any indication as to where they were going, wondering whether he should call them or not.

_Calm down, Burt. They just went out to grab some dinner. They're fine. _

It didn't take long, maybe an hour before the front door opened, Burt hearing it from the kitchen as he made himself a sandwich.

"Boys, that you?" He called.

"Dad!" Kurt skidded to a halt in front of him, eyes wide and so scared, cheeks streaked with tears, hands and clothes covered in blood.

"Kurt, what-?"

"Dad, please, you have to help. You have to help him, he's hurt and he's so scared, please!" He stammered, sobbing.

"Shh, hey, what's goin' on? Help who?" He asked, holding his shoulders to steady him.

"Blaine!" He was nearly screaming, shaking all over. "Please, Dad, please help him. His dad beats him and he went home last night and did…god, I don't know what he did to him! He's hurt bad, but we c-cant take him to a hospital or he'll find him!"

"Shh, hey, hey, easy. Where is he?"

He gasped when he saw the boy lying on his couch. His face was battered, body shaking, blood gone from his face and his lips.

"Kurt," he said gently, calmly. "Go get in the car. We're gonna take him to the hospital, okay?"

"But, but his Dad'll find him!"

"Hey, hey, take it easy. No one's gonna hurt Blaine. I'll take care of it, okay? Just go wait in the car and I'll bring him out in a second, okay?"

He nodded, hurrying to Blaine, bending beside him. "My dad's gonna help you," he whispered, kissing his cheek. Blaine leaned into his touch, tears rolling. "Shh, it'll be alright soon." Another quick kiss before he left with Finn in tow.

Burt stepped over to him, taking the blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapping it around him. "Shh, it's alright, buddy. It's okay."

Blaine whimpered, pain radiating all over, conditioned fear of older men swelling in his heart.

"Hey, hey, easy. Just relax. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? I'm gonna get you to the hospital, alright?"

"Pl-please-"

"Shh, he won't find you," he said gently, looking at him.

How hadn't he seen this before?

Until now, everything that surrounded Blaine was dark, destructive, and highly dangerous to the well being of his son, a son with a vulnerability that was impossible to hide and possibly so easy to take advantage of. He saw Blaine as a predator looking to take him away and toss him aside when he was finished, hurt and heartbroken. He saw a tornado of trouble bound and determined to hurt his son.

Not now. No.

His eyes were wide and filled with tears, looking wounded and so young. He was just a little boy. Just a scared, wounded little boy that needed help. And he hadn't seen it until it was too late. "Hey, it's alright," he soothed. "It's okay." He pulled him close hugging him gently. "I'm sorry, Blaine," he admitted.

The boy shook his head, squeezing back as tightly as his hands would allow, sniffling, welcoming Burt's embrace and wishing it would never end, wracking his brain to see if he could remember a time when his own parents had held him like this.

_Never_, he thought, shutting his eyes. _They never did…_

"Shh, it's alright. You're gonna be okay. Let's get you some help, alright?" He said, offering him a small smile, hoping it would make the pain a little more bearable.

He would probably never know how much it did.

* * *

><p>Kurt held him all the way there, singing softly to him, rocking him, not letting him go until they got into the emergency room and he was put on a stretcher ready to be dragged away.<p>

"It's okay," he smiled, staying strong, being brave. That's what he needed to be for him right now. "It's alright, Blaine. I love you."

He squeezed his hand, battered throat too sore to let him speak. Kurt quickly touched his cheek, feeling the words on his face.

He listened to the faceless, nameless doctor roll him away before he collapsed to his knees, sobbing.

"Whoa, Kurt, hey!" Burt exclaimed, bending to hold him.

"What did he do to him, Dad?" He whimpered, shaking, letting the emotions he'd been hiding from Blaine gush from the open wounds in his heart. "How could someone hurt him like that? Th-the blood- and he was so cold and…_the chain, Dad, there was a chain wrapped around his neck!_" He buried his face in his hands, crying so hard his chest hurt. Burt looked up at Finn, who nodded sadly, blood still staining his own fingertips.

"I had to get it off," he whispered, gesturing to them.

"Call your mom and tell her what's goin' on," he said softly. Finn nodded, stepping away, grateful to have something to do. He turned his attention back to his son. "Kurt, it's gonna be okay. I'm gonna call the cops and get this all sorted out. Blaine won't have to go back to that place. He can stay with us for all I care, but I will _not_ make him go anywhere near that place ever again."

"Thank you!" He choked, sniffling, heartbroken. "Thank you so much, Dad."

Burt hugged him right there in the middle of the hospital floor, closing his eyes and praying that the boy his son loved so much would come out of this alright.


	15. Ready or Not

15

**Ready or Not**

Kurt told the police everything he could about finding Blaine, Finn filling in details like what the room and the house looked like, before he collapsed in a chair in the waiting room, staring at nothing, crying silently. The tears trekked down his cheeks slowly, eventually soaking his face, so broken. His heart beat raggedly, memories flooding his mind, causing him that much more pain.

Burt could only watch, helpless to his son's pain, knowing what this was doing to him.

_Please,_ he prayed harder than he ever had in his life. _Please let Blaine be okay. Kurt already lost Elizabeth, don't make him lose Blaine too. That's too much, he...he's only seventeen years old! He can't do this again, please._

Kurt thought back to meeting Blaine for the first time. Holding his hand, laughing with him over dinner, speeding down the street on that motorcycle giggling like crazy into the night because they were together and that's all that mattered. Happy. For a fleeting moment they were both happy. And Kurt had no idea how miserable Blaine might have been. Had no idea that he may have went home to something awful that overshadowed those wonderful moments.

_How could I be so stupid? I should've known who was hurting him. God, what is wrong with me?_

He thought of his voice, his touch and his smile, the things that could always make him feel better. _Now it's your turn_, he thought. _You be there for him through the rest of this mess. He deserves that at least. _

_If he makes it._

"Mr. Hummel?" A distant voice said, snapping both father and son out of their daze. Burt stood, facing the doctor.

"Is he okay?" He demanded, glancing at Kurt, who was hanging on every word.

"He's lost a lot of blood, hypothermia, two broken ribs, broken nose, fractured collarbone and serious bruising to his larynx," he listed. Kurt hiccuped on his breath, eyes squeezed shut. "Uh, there's deep bruising all over him, shallow cuts too, probably from a razor-" another nearly inaudible gasp from Kurt. "-and some minor burns."

"Shit," Burt breathed, shaking his head. "Is he going to be alright?"

"He'd be in better shape if he hadn't been moved in and out of an SUV three times," he said darkly. Finn glowered at him, glancing at his brother. "But he should be alright."

Kurt fell over his knees, sobbing, a weight lifting from his body. Finn knelt in front of him, whispering comforts.

"How long does he have to stay here?" He asked calmly.

"A few weeks. His ribs need to be healed up enough so they won't slip and possibly puncture a lung or cause any other internal bleeding and we need to keep a very close eye on his vitals for awhile," the doctor assured.

"When can we see him?" Kurt squeaked.

"I'm sorry, but only immediate family-"

"His _family_ is the whole reason he's in here, pal. Or were you too busy to bother learning the kid's story before you came out here on your high-horse?" Burt growled, knowing he was out of line but really not giving a damn. Not when his son was hurting like this.

"We'll let you know when you can see him."

Kurt continued to cry, wrung out and weary, his heart thudding painfully.

"He's gonna be okay, Kurt," Finn said gently, hand on his shoulder. "He's gonna be just fine, just like the doctor said, okay?" Kurt nodded, sniffling.

"I need to see him," he whispered. "I need to hear him talk and hold his hand. I need to know for myself that he's alright."

"You will soon," he nodded. "You'll be the first person in there, Burt'll make sure of it."

"He's so scared, Finn," he breathed. "What if he needs me right now and I'm not there?"

"You'll see him soon, it's alright. It'll be okay." He didn't know what else to say. What else he _could_ say about it? Kurt gripped his hand, squeezing hard, needing something to ground him there.

"Can you just stay here with me, Finn?" He whispered. "Don't talk, just sit with me."

Finn obliged, staying at his knelt spot in front of him, just trying to be there for his brother. "It'll be alright."

His heartbeat kept in time with his thoughts, just one word again and again. _Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine... _Distantly, he felt his father sit beside him, an echo of a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

"It's gonna be okay, buddy." Such a vague voice. One that felt so far away, like a radio playing in another room. His temples and heart pounded out that word, in such a horrible place, only able to imagine what Blaine could have gone through.

* * *

><p>Hours. It took hours of muddled consciousness, doctors and machines, needles, bandages, tubes, beeping before they finally let him rest. He demanded to see Kurt for a moment before they put something in his IV, medicine that caused his pain to vanish and took his consciousness away. He tried to say Kurt's name, tried to find him in the blur of faces before it pulled him under.<p>

He relived every second.

"_No! No, please, no more. Help me! D-Dad, please, don't! No more, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He thrashed and tore at the bindings on his wrists, screaming past the awful chain, more slicing. _

"_You do this to yourself already, I'm just finishing the job! You useless waste of space!"_

"_Nohoh, God, plehease! PLEASE! Help me, help me! MOM! Mom, please, please help! Don't let him do this to me!" _

"_You think crying for your mommy is gonna help you?" A fist in his curls, yanking his face up. "You think this hurts, I'll show you hurt!" _

_He was torn away from his bed, the chain yanking so hard he was thrown off of his bed to the floor. _

"_Mohom," he whimpered, looking up at to her, drenched in blood. "Mom, please, stop him. Don't let him hurt-" a hard steel-toed boot collided with his ribs, knocking him down. _

"_WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO SHUT YOU UP, FAGGOT?" _

When he woke again his throat was on fire, body aching and heavy. His face felt swollen and puffy, joints stiff. The light around him was dim, the shades dark. Night.

"Kurt?" He breathed, trying to find his way through the fog and white dots speckled through his vision. Something squeezed his hand to his right, something soft, comforting and mildly desperate all at once. He turned, meeting watery, red-rimmed eyes that weren't really looking at him. "Kurt," he sighed.

"Shh...talk softly, baby," he advised, touching his cheek, stroking gently. "It's alright now. You're safe."

"How-how long have I...?"

"Four days," he breathed, squeezing his hand again. "I didn't know if...if you were going to..." He kissed his fingers, still holding his face to see his expressions.

"I was j-just tired," he chuckled, trying to make him smile

"Don't do that," Kurt hissed, begging. "Don't do that. I'm not gonna let you hide from this, Blaine. You'll only use it to hurt yourself later."

"What do you want me to do?" He breathed, tears welling in his eyes. "You want me to tell you what he did to me?"

"No, baby-"

"Do you want me to tell you how afraid I was? How I screamed for you while he cut me up? Is that what you want me to tell you? How I cried, and cried and begged only to get hurt worse again and again? Or that when your dad hugged me I pretended just for a second that he was my dad because I've never had parents that actually wanted me? That never loved me? _What do you want me to say, Kurt?" _He sobbed.

"Shh, shh, hey..." Kurt said, gingerly gathering him in his arms, too tired to hide his own tears. "No, no, I just wanted...God, Blaine, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you for saving me," he breathed, tone even softer than before. "I love you."

"I love you too." He kissed him gingerly, minding his split lip. He stroked his hair, holding him, touching him carefully.

"How long have you been here?" He rasped, injured.

"I haven't left since you got here," he said, smiling softly. "Dad's asked me to go home a few times, but I couldn't just leave you here, baby. What if you woke up and there was no one here for you?" He kissed his forehead. Blaine sniffed, eyes closed.

"Did you mean it? Did your dad mean it, that I don't have to go back? That I can stay with you?" He whispered.

"Of course, of course you can," he nodded. "We did mean it, baby. You're not going back there and we're not going to let some social worker take you away and shove you in some group home until you're eighteen. We won't let that happen, I promise. We'll keep you safe, baby."

"Thank you, thank you," he breathed, sobbing, so broken.

"Blaine!"

They both turned, Kurt's hands still holding him as tightly as possible.

"Blaine, sweetie, thank god," she laughed. Kurt frowned, feeling his love tremble under his grip, shaking his head.

"Mom," he whispered. Kurt's eyes grew.

"No," he said firmly, positioning himself in front of him, shielding him from her. "No, get out! How did you get in here? Leave!"

"This is my son!" She snapped, taking another step inside. "It's your fault this even happened to him. He never would have done this if-"

"Mom, stop!" Blaine begged, still shaking. "Just go, leave, get out! Please..."

His mother looked the boy standing in front of her up and down, looking at him curiously. "My god are...are you blind?"

"_Mom, leave!_" He screamed, crying, still holding onto Kurt.

"Get out before I get the police down the hall," he demanded. "I don't know how you got in here, but get out!"

"I have a right to see my son!"

"YOU LOST THAT RIGHT WHEN YOU LET THAT MAN TORTURE HIM!" He bellowed.

"Kurt!" A voice calling down the hall. "Kurt!"

He stayed where he was, knowing she was still in the doorway, looking at him as if he were some anomaly.

"Blaine-"

"HEY!" Burt appeared behind her, startling her. Blaine shut his eyes, head falling back on the pillow, shuddering. Kurt fell back into his seat, easing Blaine to him, allowing him to hide his face in his chest. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Blaine's mother and-"

"Get out," he spat immediately. "Get the hell out of here and don't you dare come back. How dare you come anywhere near him, or my son..." He grabbed her shoulder, guiding her out of the room and taking her away from the couple.

"Shh, hey, hey, it's alright. Shh, I've got you Blaine. It's alright. She won't come back."

"I want to go back to sleep," he moaned. "Can-can I go back to sleep, please? Please, please, can I go to sleep, Kurt?" He felt so small, so fragile in his arms. Child-like.

"Of course, of course you can. Shh...just close your eyes. I've got you, shut your eyes. Shh..." Everything else could wait. Nothing mattered but keeping Blaine comfortable. He rocked him slowly, fingers in his hair. He closed his eyes. "_Blackbird singing in the dead of night take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arise..."_

Blaine kept his face hidden in Kurt's neck, sniffling, nuzzling, soothed by Kurt's song. "God, Kurt, I've been looking for you forever..." Drug-induced babble, yes, but he meant it. Kurt smiled through his tears, kissing his temple.

"_Blackbird, fly, into the light of the dark black night..."_


	16. Look Harder

16

**Look Harder**

_Three weeks later..._

"I got it, Kurt, I'm okay," Blaine assured, holding his side and limping up the stairs with Kurt beside him. "Be careful, Kurt. I could trip you."

"I'll be okay. Are you alright?"

"Jus...just need to lay down soon," he said, trying to smile and keep his tone light.

"You're almost there. Six stairs left, baby," he said encouragingly, a soothing hand on his back.

"And then I'm gonna sleep," he breathed, sighing. "I'm gonna sleep for a week...which is really pathetic."

"It's alright," Kurt assured. "Last night it was the yard, today it's the stairs." Blaine's breath hitched, stopping again to hang onto the rail. "Shh, take it slow, take it slow."

"What about tomorrow?" He asked, wiping sweat from his brow. "What happens tomorrow?" Kurt gently kissed his cheek.

"You rest. Wednesday through Friday you have physical therapy for your ribs. But tomorrow and the rest of today you rest, alright?" He said, smiling, offering as much hope for him as he could. Blaine leaned his forehead against Kurt's, smiling back.

"Nobody else could make me smile right now," he admitted, kissing the tip of his nose. "Six more?"

"Six more."

* * *

><p>Blaine didn't scream in his sleep. He gave no warning at all that he was having a nightmare, not until he woke. He opened his eyes and God, how he gasped, tears streaming down his face. No sobs, not anymore, just tears and desperate reaches for Kurt with trembling hands and a soft, nearly silent, "please."<p>

Kurt would take him in his arms, shush him and hold him without having to say much. Not unless he had that other tiny whisper asking, "sing to me?"

And he would. Whatever he needed he would do it. No matter what. He pulled his head into his lap, ran his fingers through his curls and let him shake, let him be weak and afraid in front of him, hidden away where no one else could see. Somewhere safe.

He'd been so awful these past few weeks, jumping at the sound of swings and glasses clinking together.

Once, during these first few weeks of being out of the hospital he was sitting on couch across from Burt, watching a basketball game while Kurt was at school he yelled at the screen, cursing a player for a foul in the last close seconds. Blaine jumped, hurting himself, fear and tears sparking in his eyes so quickly it was dizzying. He curled into himself, shuddering, so quiet that it took Burt a moment to notice what had happened.

"Blaine? Hey, what's wrong?" He moved closer to him, frowning when he whimpered quietly. "What did...?" His eyes grew, realizing. "No, no, no, hey. Look at me, please, look at me," he begged, carefully touching his shoulder. "Blaine, I'm not mad at you. That wasn't...I wasn't thinking, okay? I'm not mad at you, it's okay."

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered, still so lost in his own mind. "I-I'll try not to upset you again-"

"No, no, no," Burt said, gently cupping his neck."Blaine, listen, it's alright. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. Don't apologize. I'm sorry for scaring you. It's okay. It's okay." Blaine still looked at him, still trembling, still so afraid. Burt shook his head. "Come here," he said as gently and carefully as he could, slowly pulling him into a hug, holding him. The boy gasped, shuddering as if he'd been doused in cold water.

"Shh...Shh, it's okay. Shh...it's alright. I've got you." Blaine started to cry, unable to stop himself.

"I'm sorry I'm afraid of you," he whispered. "I know I shouldn't be, but-"

"It's alright. I just don't want you to be scared anymore," he gulped. Burt rocked him, holding the back of his head. Just a little boy. Such a scared, wounded little boy that needed something so simple. Compassion. Patience. Just love. Just a little. Something he'd never had before.

"You don't have to be, I promise," he nodded. "You don't have to be scared anymore. I've got you. Me, Kurt, Carole, Finn, we're not gonna send you away or let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

"Thank you. You...you don't have to do that," he whimpered. "You don't owe me anything."

Burt looked at him, smiling softly. "Blaine, you made my son happy. You brought him out of the dark and got him to smile. I owe you my son's _life. _The least I could do is protect yours. You're just a kid..."

He held him for awhile longer, waiting until he was alright before going back to watching the game, joking with him, watching his eyes light up behind the bruises and the bandages.

And Kurt...

Was perfect. Imperfectly perfect as usual. Talking about his day, asking Blaine which outfit looked best, dancing with him in his room to the new, or old, Lady Gaga song. Gently, of course. There was only so much his ribs could take. They sang together for fun, finding harmonies while Kurt cooed away about how lovely it would be to sing with him in glee club. He'd win the next duet competition for sure. And Blaine smiled. He held his hand, kissed his cheeks and spiraled further and further into the crevice that had no end called love. Loving him. Loving every single molecule of that sweet boy's soul.

"Would you want to transfer schools?" Kurt asked one night, lying beside him when he should be in his own room down the hall. "With me?"

"I thought your friends didn't like me," he chortled, his nose healed, most of the bruises faded brown or yellow, burns that weren't going to scar. Not when Kurt had the regiment to totally take care of that. The same went for the cuts his father inflicted.

"Too bad if they don't," Kurt snapped, touching his face. "I want you to be with me, and I want you to be safe. McKinley might be your best choice for that."

"You want me to come with you, right?" He asked, smiling softly.

"I want you near me every second of every day," he breathed, kissing him.

"Then I'll go," he said sleepily. "Follow you to the ends of the earth..."

Kurt smiled, equally as tired. "Why would you do something that silly?"

"Because I love you."

A sloppy, lazy kiss on waiting lips. "I love you too."

"Ooh, if that's what I get I'll start tomorrow," he smirked, kissing again, dirtier this time, sliding his piercing on the underside of his tongue, smiling when he shivered. Kurt blushed, pulling away and gasping.

"Tomorrow will work," he whispered, grinning. "Now go to sleep."

"You should be in your room."

"I'll just tell Dad I got lost," he giggled. Blaine rolled his eyes. "Wake me up if you have a nightmare." They snuggled close together, warm and content.

"You sure we won't get in trouble?"

"Since when is Blaine Anderson afraid of a little trouble?" He teased. Blaine grinned.

"Trouble's my middle name, baby."

* * *

><p>"Now just look into the camera and tell us everything. You won't have to appear in court, just give your testimony right here." The woman in front of him was kind in a stern sort of way, her eyes blank with a small smile on her wrinkled lips.<p>

Carole had asked him if he wanted her in there, being the only person there with Burt at the shop and Kurt and Finn at school, for both legal purposes and she didn't want to leave him all alone. She couldn't do that to him. He looked at her now, fear in his eyes and a lump in his throat. This stuffy room with this woman that didn't care. No one could care when they were paid to do it. She smiled gently at him, squeezing his hand with both of hers holding his.

"Take your time sweetie. It'll be okay."

He took a deep breath, feeling constrained, confined, scared. Terrified of that blinking light.

_What if he gets out? What if he comes after me and hurts me? What if he kills me? What if he doesn't go to jail at all?_

_He won't unless you tell them what he did._

_I'm so scared._

The weight and warmth of Carole's hands pulled through his thoughts, her gentle squeeze and soft smile. She cared. This little woman had so much care and compassion in her it was overwhelming. "It's okay," she smiled.

He took a breath, stared right into the camera as if it were the face of his father, and spoke.

Tears tapped onto his hand when it was through, shaking a little, knuckles ghost-white. "Then Kurt found me and took me to the hospital," he breathed, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson," the woman said, turning off the camera. "He'll be going away for a long time, don't worry."

She stood, leaving with it.

Blaine hadn't moved, staring at the floor, shaking.

"Blaine," Carole said softly, her free hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, eyes wide and wounded, looking defeated. "Come here, sweetie, it's okay." She pulled him into a hug.

"You were so brave, honey. You did the right thing, it's okay. It's okay. I'm really proud of you," she smiled, looking at him steadily.

"You are?" He asked, voice cracking.

"Absolutely I am," she said, smile growing.

"No one's ever told me that before," he said quietly. She hugged him again, patting his back.

"Well they should," she said. "There's a lot to be proud of, Blaine."

He buried his face in her shoulder, hanging on to her. "You wouldn't have let him hurt me, would you?"

"Not for a second," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "I wouldn't have let him get near you."

"Ev-even if he would've hurt you too?" He asked, unable to stop himself from asking, feeling awkward for doing so.

"Absolutely I would," she said, eyes closed.

"Why isn't my mom like normal ones?" He breathed. She squeezed tighter.

"It's okay, it's okay..."


	17. Touch

17

**Touch**

Blaine stepped into the empty choir room, clearing his throat. "Hey, uh, Schuester, right?" The teacher in the vest turned, smiling pleasantly.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I wanted to audition for Glee club," he said.

"Sure!" He beamed, happy to add a new member. "Did you already have something prepared or did you want some time?"

"No, I can audition whenever," he explained. "I was in the Warblers over at Dalton." Will's brows rose.

"Dalton, huh?"

"I won't be a behavioral problem, I promise," he assured. "I mean, unless someone wants to get in my face, then they'll have the problem, not you." Will laughed it off nervously.  
>"Uh, yeah, if you wanna audition go ahead," he sat down in a chair, gesturing the open space in front of him.<br>Blaine talked with the huddle of bandies still gathered in the room, each of them nodding as he stepped to the middle of the tile.

"_Do you dream that the world will know your name? So tell me your name. Do you care about all the little things, or anything at all? I wanna feel all the chemicals inside. I wanna feel. I wanna sunburn, just to know that I'm alive, to know I'm alive_..."

* * *

><p>"<em>Don't tell me if I'm dyin', 'cause I don't wanna know. If I can't see the sun maybe I should go. Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreamin' of angels on the moon. Where everyone you know never leaves too soon."<em>

Rachel squeezed Kurt's hand, leaning close to him, beaming. "We've so got Regionals."

"I told you he was good," he whispered dreamily.

The song gained speed, Blaine's eyes closing as he lost himself in the song, knowing his own angel was right there for him.

"_This is the one last day in the shadows, and to know a brother's love. This is to New York city angels-" _Kurt's grin broadened. "_and the rivers of our blood. This is to all of us. To all of us." _He softened, right in front of everyone in his leather jacket and toothpick tucked in the corner of his mouth, usual scowl melted away. "_So don't tell me if I'm dyin', 'cause I don't wanna know. If I can't see the sun maybe I should go..._"

"So what happened to him being a badass?" Puck asked, genuinely confused. Artie shook his head rapidly, leaning back.

"Dude, don't go there. He looks nice right now but I watched him flip Azimos into a trashcan with one hand this morning," he whispered. Puck swallowed, leaning back while Brittany bobbed happily beside him.

"_Yeah you can tell me all your thoughts about the stars that fill polluted skies. And show me where you run to when no one's left to take your side. Don't tell me where the road ends cause I just don't wanna know. No I don't wanna know."_

A wonderful thing about not being able to see was feeling music. It's beyond listening to it, it's feeling it, seeing shades and colors for different feelings and emotions, for seeing the rivers of auras and emotion that seeped through his skin. Which was probably why he was so close to tears right now.

_Don't tell me if I'm dyin'! Don't tell me if I'm dyin'!" _The song ended and Blaine stopped, his smirk planted back where it belonged, eyes only for Kurt while the others applauded.

"Thank you Blaine!" Schuester clapped, laughter in his voice. "Okay guys, now that we have Blaine's voice in the mix we can really get started on preparing for regionals!"

Blaine made his way over, grabbing the leg of Rachel's chair and sliding her closer to Finn and placing his own chair beside Kurt in the same swift movement.

"Dude, that was awesome," Mike said behind him. Blaine nodded, bumping their fists together.

"Yeah, I know."

Kurt sighed happily, leaning his head against Blaine's shoulder, holding his hand.

"So how's your first day been?" He asked. "Other than tossing Azimos into the garbage this morning."

"He was the one trash talking," Blaine teased. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'm glad you're here with me."

"I'm glad I'm here too," he whispered.

"You know," Kurt said quietly, looking straight ahead as if he were listening to Mr. Schuester's assignment. "Dad and Carole won't be home tonight and Finn's going out with Sam and Puck so...We'll have the house to ourselves." Blaine shifted in his seat, suddenly very aware of Kurt's hand on his leg.

"What are you suggesting?" He said, voice dark and low. Kurt licked his lips, swallowing hard.

"Take a guess."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure about this?" Blaine whispered, holding his waist. Kurt took a breath, incredibly nervous.<p>

"I trust you," he breathed, allowing him to hold him. Blaine stared at him the semidarkness, the bed beside them, Kurt and all of his layers in front of him. So beautiful, so innocent.

"Kurt, I...I don't deserve you," he breathed. "You've never...and I..." Kurt kissed him slowly, deeply, spreading that fire that was already sparking between them.

"Don't," he said, fingers in his hair. "I love you and...and I'm ready."

Blaine stared at him, shaking his head, holding his cheek. "You're absolutely sure?"

Kurt kissed him again, sliding his tongue past his lips and tangling them together. Blaine moaned softly, tightening his grip on his waist. "I'm sure. Just...go slow, okay?"

"Promise."

They continued kissing, Kurt's hands sliding up Blaine's shoulders to snake inside his jacket, taking it from his shoulders and touching his arms with shaking fingers. Their kisses stayed slow and deep, Kurt taking Blaine's lower lip in his mouth, suckling softly, heart pounding. Blaine cautiously started to undo the buttons on his shirt, the vest discarded across the room, slowly letting his lips kiss his jaw and finally his neck. Kurt shuddered under his touch, licking his lips, squeezing his wrists. "You okay?" He said softly, his stubble scratching at his neck in a slow burn. He nodded rapidly, swallowing hard. He ripped his undershirt over his head, leaving his chest bare and shaking.

Blaine looked over his skin, practically salivating. "God, Kurt."

"That bad, huh?" He said, breathy, nervous. Blaine shook his head.

"No. God no. You're..." Carefully, he reached out to touch his skin, moaning at the feel of his skin under the pads of his fingers. He wrapped his arms around him, sinking his lips into his neck, trailing to the skin between his shoulder, feeling the velvet softness of his back and his arms. Kurt gasped and cooed, shaking from the new sensations. He slowly tugged on Blaine's shirt, waiting for him to break away, his cheeks pinked, breath labored. "You're so beautiful," Blaine breathed, touching his cheek. Kurt's blush deepened as he tore Blaine's shirt away, tentatively touching bare skin. He felt everything. The goosebumps rising on his flesh, the sparse trail of hair from his chest to his stomach, the contraction of his muscles as he attempted to breathe evenly. Kurt gasped when Blaine did, touching a nipple in his exploration and surprising each other.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Blaine shook his hand, hand over his to keep him there.

"Don't be."

They kissed, slow and deep while Kurt's fingers still worked over the perked bud, moving to the other to hear Blaine moan again. He broke from their lips, his eyes dark and lusting. He kissed down his neck to his chest, tonguing closer and closer until he lapped at his nipple. Kurt cried out, throwing his head back, Blaine's hand on his back the only thing steadying him.

"_Blaine!_" He shuddered, the heat pooled in his jeans almost overwhelming.

"Are you okay? Should I stop?" He asked, suddenly panicked. Kurt shook his head.

"I'm okay," he nodded. More soft kisses to his chest, working his way to the other, his thumb still circling the other. Kurt latched onto his back, scratching and clawing, eliciting growls above his own wanton whimpers. "Bl-Blaine, slow down, just for a second."

He stopped immediately, facing him, holding his cheek, kissing him chastely to cool them both down. He pressed himself close, feeling him skin to skin. Kurt shuddered again, his skin rippling and melting. He clung to him, sucking a hard hickey into his neck, slightly manic and desperate in his kisses.

"Shh, it's alright. Do we need to stop?"

"N-no," he sighed. "Absolutely not." Blaine stroked and caressed his skin, marveling at how creamy and beautiful he was. His blue eyes positively glowed in the semidarkness, lips swollen and pink. So beautiful.

"Kurt," he whispered. The innocence in his face was captivating, breathtaking even. "You're sure you want to do this with _me_?"

"Wh-why wouldn't I?"

"I don't deserve you," he said simply. "I don't deserve what you're giving me. I don't have anything to give you."

"I didn't expect you to." A soft kiss to his forehead. "I want this, Blaine. I want _you_. I want to give myself to you. I love you."

He fell into his lips, taking him back into that world where nothing existed but skin, heat and yearning, where only the two of them existed.

Kurt gasped again when they fell onto his bed, rolling so he was above Blaine. He reached felt him, kissing his fingers, fingers smoothing over his arms, tracing the veins, feeling every inch of his skin, mapping him out in his mind. He kissed down his stomach, sighing heavily before gingerly touching the button of his jeans.

"It's okay," Blaine said, touching his hair. "Go ahead." The jeans were torn away before Kurt took off his own, blushing when Blaine whined desperately. "God, Kurt you're fucking flawless." He shook his head, still blushing.

"Blaine, you don't have to lie to me, just-" He was cut off by Blaine's hungry mouth devouring his lips, making him moan with his tongue.

"You know how many people I've been with," he whispered, "and you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life, alright? I have _never_, _ever_ seen anyone as gorgeous as you. I never will." Kurt fell beside him, kissing him languidly, both in their underwear, cautious to press against each other for fear of combustion. "I love you, Kurt," he whispered. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

Blaine put Kurt's hands on his hips, smiling when he hiccuped in surprise. "It's alright."

He moved slowly, taking the time to caress and feel every inch of skin he revealed before he slid them over his legs and onto the floor. His heart thudded in his chest, knowing that Blaine was completely naked beneath him, exposed in the open air, expecting. He touched his face, trying to understand what he was feeling.

Slightly apprehensive, vulnerable, just as much as he was, and so in love. "Kurt, you can touch me if you want," he whispered.

"I...I don't know how. I don't know what to do," he admitted, embarrassed.

"Whatever you do will be just fine, baby," he assured. "It's okay."

Blaine clenched the sheets tight in his fingers, watching Kurt duck his head to kiss the inside of his thighs and his lower belly, swallowing hard and trying not to shake. His lithe hand found his most sensitive areas, making him gasp at the touch of his hand. He whined without much thought, shutting his eyes when he carefully slid his hand down the shaft, tracing and teasing with his fingertips. "Kurt!" He gasped, shaking all over. "God, come here, baby." He leaned up, catching his lips, wilting a little when he let go, his hands sliding from his waist to his backside, squeezing and kneading. Kurt gasped, shutting his eyes.

"Oh, Blaine."

"Alright?"

"Yes," he gasped. Blaine slid his hands beneath the fabric of his briefs, feeling his flesh and trying not to absolutely scream in worship for every inch of his gorgeous body.

Kurt swallowed hard, his knees trembling as his underwear slid down his legs, leaving him just as naked as Blaine was, feeling every breath of air around him, including the hot, wet gasps Blaine was taking just a few inches from him. "Oh my God, Kurt, _look_ at you," he whispered, not truly meaning to say it aloud.

Kurt tried to wriggle out of his briefs and get them on the floor, losing his balance and falling on top of him. Blaine laughed with him, giggling like crazy, nuzzling noses in the embarrassment. "I told you I don't know what I'm doing!"

"You're wonderful," Blaine smiled, kissing his nose and his lips, hands sliding down his back to touch the swell of his ass again, positively addicted to it.

"I'm underwear impaired," Kurt muttered. Blaine laughed again.

"Yep. That's what it is."  
>"Shut up and kiss me."<p>

Minutes passed, the laughter turned to want again.

"Kurt," he whispered, leaning into his touch. "I surrender myself to you."

His heart clenched. At any other time it would have sounded overdone, cliché even. But now...knowing how vulnerable his eyes must be and how sincere he was. He'd never done this before, never truly let another lover in like this, let them have every piece of him when making love. Then again, this very well may have been the first time Blaine had made love instead of just casual sex and fucking. He may have been a virgin but he knew the difference.

"Me too," he assured. "Me too, baby."

Without warning Kurt brought his hips to Blaine's, touching members, touching skin to skin and moaning so loud it hurt his throat. Blaine shuddered, jerking his hips up into him. Kurt keened again, gripping his shoulders. "Is, is this how you want to do this?" Blaine breathed, sweat slicking his face.

"Is that alright?" He squeaked. A broken nod. They rutted against each other, sweat slicking their bodies, tension and need driving the both of them. They whimpered and moaned, wet, broken kisses connecting in no particular rhythm.

Sparks and bolts of light exploded in Kurt's darkness, his body like an exposed nerve, every inch that way. And this...this was almost too much for his mind to take. Never had so much pleasure wracked his body, every brush of Blaine's lips and curls like an explosion on his skin, so desperate to reach a release, knowing he wouldn't last long at all. "Blaine, I'm close," he warned, almost apologetic.

"M-me too," he admitted. "You're so beautiful, Kurt, oh god..."

"Mmm!"

Faster, foreheads pressed together, Kurt seeing him without truly seeing him.

"Oh God, Blaine!"

He shuddered, gasping and hanging onto him as tightly as he could.

"Kurt, oh Kurt, I'm-!" He screamed, whole body tensing.

They both melted against each other, heaving for air, warm and buzzing all over.

"Wow," Kurt breathed, tears slipping from his eyes. "I love you."

Blaine wiped his eyes. "You alright? You're okay, right? I didn't-"

"No," he assured, kissing his chest. "No, it's alright. I'm fine."

"Good."

He watched his face for the longest time, combing his hair back, stroking his cheek and his face. "Is it bad if I say if I want to spend the rest of my life with you?"

Kurt smiled, blushing. "No."

Blaine shut his eyes, still holding him close, so warm, safe and comfortable. "Good."

-Song credit "Angels On the Moon" Thriving Ivory-


	18. Sunrise, Sunset

18

**Sunrise, Sunset**

So warm here, so soft. A gentle breath tickled his eyelashes, in incredibly soft snore coming from slightly parted lips. The sun kissed his skin in its early morning rise, warming him and the bed beneath him as well as the body beside him. Arms wrapped protectively around him, sure and loving. Kurt wished so desperately to see what Blaine looked like right now, to see him without anger or pain or fear, to see him completely at peace, cradled in sleep and his reciprocating embrace. God, how he wished to see it.

He ran his fingers through his thick curls, feeling them slide and unravel on his fingertips, touching him delicately so as not to wake him. He'd given everything to this beautiful, beautiful boy before him and known it was completely, totally worth it. Every second.

He recalled the night before, underneath all the chaos and the frantic rhythm his heart had thundered out, the scars that had covered Blaine's skin that were now mapped out in his mind. Nearly all of them put there by his father, creating such a vivid landscape of pain. His chest clenched even thinking about it now. Blaine sighed in his sleep, nuzzling closer to him, putting his lips directly beside his neck. Kurt gasped a little, trying to ignore the gooseflesh that rose on his skin at the near contact. He pressed a hand to his cheek, carefully touching his features, making a photograph in his mind as to what this could possibly look like. He knew he'd never come close to capturing Blaine's beauty, but it was certainly worth a shot.

"Mm," Blaine hummed suddenly, startling him. He jumped again when his lips touched his neck, shivering softly. "Good morning."

"Hi," he breathed, smiling at him. Blaine grinned back.

"You look beautiful," he said, smile widening when the blood rushed to his cheeks. "I love it when you do that."

"I'm trying to break the habit, actually," he muttered. Blaine kissed his neck again.

"Don't. It's great," he said happily, far too blissful and lost in Kurt's eyes. "So, last night...that was good, right? I mean, you-" Kurt kissed him, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"No regrets," he winked. Blaine grinned back.

"Good! Great, that's great. Really great. I'm glad," he stammered, stumbling over his words, causing Kurt to stifle giggles. He cleared his throat. "That's awesome."

"You weren't so bad yourself," he teased, lost in his own lovestruck aura. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven," he sighed, pressing his forehead to his. Kurt gasped, scrambling off the bed and searching frantically for his underwear. Blaine jumped, taken aback by his sudden departure.

"What's wrong?"

"My parents are gonna be home any minute!" He exclaimed, still searching frantically.

"Shit!" Blaine snatched up his shorts and his jeans, yanking them up as fast as he could, grabbing his shirt in the process. He looked over at Kurt, giggling softly. "Left...left...up...right there."

"Thank you," he huffed, blushing and yanking it over his hips. He Blaine hopped around the bed, the sound of the garage filtering through the otherwise silent house, catching Kurt's slight waist in his hands, pulling him close. "Blaine!"

"Just one," he whispered, kissing him deeply, sighing softly.

"Okay," Kurt sighed, his breath gone. "Go, go, go, go!"

Blaine rushed out grinning and clambering into his own bed, trying to level his breathing in case Burt or Carole checked in on him. He squeezed his pillow, sighing in a giddy way he'd normally never allow.

_I never thought I'd ever feel this way about someone,_ he thought blissfully, shutting his eyes. _He's completely taken over my mind. He...he's so perfect._

Kurt found a T-shirt in his dresser and scrambled into bed as Burt and Carole clattered around the kitchen, falling against the pillow, and trying not to smile as broadly as he wanted to. That boy...God, he was so handsome, and caring, and gorgeous.

_I love him so much. He's perfect. _

Both lovers fell asleep with ridiculous smiles on their faces, happy. So very, very happy.

* * *

><p>Kurt bounced around the kitchen, passing him a few eggs while he whisked cream together, humming softly to this week's group song, practicing harmonies.<p>

"Flat," Blaine remarked. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know," he grumped.

"Are you sure you don't want any help?" Carole said, poking her head in the kitchen.

"You've made dinner every night this week, don't worry about it," Blaine assured, shooting her a rare smile.

"If you say so," she sighed, stepping back into the living room.

They continued singing, teasing, reaching around each other just as an excuse to touch. Blaine pecked Kurt's neck a few times just to watch him blush, constantly staring at him in awe. He wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing behind his ear before whispering, "I love you." Kurt grinned.

"I love you too." He held him for a moment, shutting his eyes and resting his forehead against his neck. He relished in these few moments, being near the angel that had rescued him from his private hell. He deserved so much more than anything he could offer him. Hell, he deserved a prince that would take him away and care for him for the rest of his life.

He was trying to be that for him, trying to be perfect because damn it, Kurt may not have asked for it but anyone as lovely as him only deserved the best. "I start at your dad's shop Monday," he said happily, stepping away. Kurt beamed, tossing his handful of vegetables into the pot.

"You didn't tell me about that," he said, turning to him. Blaine smiled, kissing him.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he admitted. Kurt smiled back, dimple peeking in his cheek.

"I'm glad," he said. Silence fell for a moment. "Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"You are...happy, right?" He said quietly.

"Of course I am." He caught his waist again, hugging him. "How could I not be? I'm here, with you. I get to sing, I get to kiss you, I get to go to class with you, see my friends and I'm not getting the shit knocked out of me every day. I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life." Kurt sighed, smiling and rolling his eyes.

"What have I done?" He teased. "I turned you into a softy." Blaine chuckled.

"You're just too good of an influence," he said, kissing him again.

The doorbell sounded, eliciting a sigh from Kurt. "I've got it!" He called, stepping away from him. Blaine wilted, going back to setting the table.

Kurt hopped around the corner, reaching for the knob and cautiously opening the door. "Who is it?"

"Uh, I'm looking for Blaine Anderson? I was told he was staying here," an unfamiliar voice said, incredibly uneasy.

"Blaine," he called over his shoulder, still gripping the knob much too hard. "Who are you?" He asked, wary.

"I'm-"

"What's up, babe?" Blaine said, stopping beside him, slipping his hand in his back pocket. "Who's...?" His eyes met the strangers and he tensed, the color draining from his face.  
>"Blaine, who is it?"<p>

"Oh my god," the stranger said, relief and a smile in his voice. "Blaine."

Blaine stared, swallowing hard. "Cooper."

* * *

><p>-I know, it's so short! I will update much sooner next time, I swear! And it'll be longer!-<p> 


	19. Blinded with Rage

19

**Blinded with Rage**

"Cooper?" Kurt repeated, confused.

"Kurt, um, this-this is," he breathed, still wide-eyed. "This is my brother Cooper."

"I didn't know you had a brother," he said.

"Nice to meet you," the elder Anderson smiled, offering his hand to him.

"Likewise," Kurt agreed, nodding. Cooper frowned, his arm back to his side.

"He can't see you, Coop," Blaine snapped, already angry. "He's blind."

"Oh," he realized, taking a closer look at Kurt's eyes. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine," Kurt assured, smiling, unsure how to behave toward this man. "Happens all the time."

"What are you doing here, Cooper?" Blaine demanded, jaw clenched and set, gripping Kurt's hand like a lifeline.

"I heard Dad was in jail and awaiting trial. So I came up here," he said quietly.

"Who called you?" He spat.

Cooper paused, as if weighing the consequences about what he was going to say. "Mom." He watched the anger in Blaine's eyes deepen, rage sparking behind his bright eyes.

"And did she tell you _why_ Dad was in jail?" He growled, fists clenched.

"Yeah," he said softly, looking weary. "Yeah, she did, but I wanted to hear it from you. I want to hear your take on it." He looked at him, desperation in his eyes, pleading.

"My take? You mean you actually want to hear _my _side of things for once."

"Blaine-"

"I think I should go inside," Kurt whispered, patting Blaine's shoulder. "Do you need me out here?"

"No, no, it's fine," he assured, hanging onto him a little longer than necessary before accepting his departure.

The brothers stood in silence for what felt like years but only could've been minutes. Neither made eye contact with the other, Blaine lost in a haze of rage while Cooper stood awkwardly, chewing his lip. Looking as if he wanted the Earth to open and swallow him up.

"What'd she tell you?" Blaine finally grunted, sucking on his tongue ring.

"That you and Dad got into it pretty bad and your boyfriend called the police on him." Blaine scoffed, laughing ruefully.

"That fucking bitch," he snarled. "That stupid fucking bitch. How the fuck can she say that with a straight face?"

"Then tell me what happened," he pleaded. "I want to understand what's going on with our family, Blaine. I know she was bullshitting and I want you to set this straight."

"Why, so you can not believe me again, call me a criminal and tell the judge that I should be locked up?" He retorted, venom in his tone. Cooper stepped back as if struck.

"How many times do I have to apologize for that?" He said sadly. "You know I just wanted the best thing for you."

"IF YOU WANTED WHAT WAS BEST FOR ME YOU WOULD'VE TAKEN ME WITH YOU WHEN I ASKED YOU TO!" He bellowed. "You were my only way out, Cooper. Only way to keep me safe before Kurt came along and you left me."

"I told you-"

"You just didn't want to get saddled with me," he said, shaking his head. "Don't give me the same bullshit that you gave me then. I'll beat your fucking face in if you try." Cooper just stared at him.

"Blaine, please, tell me what's happened? What'd you and Dad fight about-"

"IT WASN'T A FIGHT!" Screaming again. He stalked toward him, getting in his face, hissing as he spoke. "Being beaten senseless while I was chained to my bed isn't a fight. Wrapping a chain around your son's neck like a dog collar and dragging him into the bathroom to burn him with a curling iron isn't a fight. Shoving his head under water over and over again isn't either. How about crying for your mother to get out from behind her scotch glass and help you while a boot kicks your ribs so hard they break? Begging for the woman that's supposed to protect you while you vomit blood on the floor? The man we call father tied me down and sliced me up. He threatened to fucking castrate me, Cooper. And he'd been doing shit like this since you left. Since I came out. He's been beating me all this time and my big brother, who told me I could tell him _anything_, that I could _always _come to you if I needed help brushed me off. Turned me away like a fucking leper and took Mommy and Daddy's side because I was just trying to get attention." He lifted his shirt, revealing the fresh scars covering his body. "DO YOU BELIEVE ME NOW? YOU GET IT NOW, COOP?"

His voice echoed around them, dying away.

Cooper looked at his baby brother, angry and broken in front of him. His own chest ached at the sight. "Oh my god, Blaine-" He reached out to him, only to be slapped away.

"Don't," he said shortly. "I don't need you now. If you're not gonna be there for me then, why the fuck would I let you now?"

"Blaine, just let me-"

"Leave," he said, turning away from him. "Just go, Cooper. You cut me out of your life a long time ago. It's about time I do the same, don't you think?"

Cooper looked at him helplessly, tears filling his eyes. "Blaine, I'm so sorry. I...I didn't know."

"Didn't bother to listen when I needed you to," he snapped. "Now go before I get Mr. Hummel to make you."

Cooper bowed his head before shaking it, slowly turning away and walking back to his car.

Blaine didn't even flinch when he heard his sobs echo over the lawn.

* * *

><p>"You didn't even let him talk," Kurt said beseechingly.<p>

"I didn't want to hear his excuses," he said stoically. "I have more important things to worry about. Like sectionals, and school, and you. He wouldn't deal with me when I needed him, so I'm not about to do the same."

"Blaine, he's your brother."

"Never acted like it."

Kurt put a gentle hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back to try and soothe him. Blaine looked at him, tenderness creeping into his face. "Tell me about him," he said softly. "Why do you hate your brother so much?"

"I tried to tell him what my dad did to me, tried a couple times. It never worked. He always thought I was making it up just to cause more trouble for my parents."

"Didn't you show him the bruises?" He asked gently.

"Thought it was from fights at school. Told me to stop trying to get attention because I was jealous of him or something. I'm happy he's in commercials and stuff. I'm glad he's doing what he wants. That's all that mom and dad talked about when he was around. Always asking me to be more like Cooper. 'Cooper isn't a faggot. We raised him right.' 'What the fuck is wrong with you, freak? Why can't you be more like your brother?' 'Act right, be like Cooper.' 'We've got one normal son and this thing.'" He shook his head, looking at his lap. "I wasn't good enough for them, and I sure as hell wasn't good enough for Cooper. Never paid attention to me or what I wanted. He just bossed me around when I was little and pushed me out of his life when he was old enough to drive. He told his friends I was a criminal for no reason. I guess I was," he shrugged.

"Barely acknowledged me outside of the house. He was in college when I was in 8th grade, when I came out. Mom and Dad tried to keep him in the dark about it. One Christmas I couldn't take it anymore and I blurted it at the table. Mom cried, Dad cussed and Cooper just sat there looking at me. I ruined Christmas again that year. He never stuck up for me, never thought I was telling the truth and they were lying. No, Blaine was the bad seed with too many issues to function. He didn't want to deal with me. Then he shows up on your front porch looking at me like I'm the villain again? Fuck that. Fuck him. I don't need Mom, I don't need Dad and I sure as hell don't need him. I don't need anyone." He put his hand over Kurt's, squeezing softly. "Nobody but you."

Kurt smiled, kissing him and sending a thrill through his heart that only happened with his lips. Blaine sighed, resting their foreheads together.

"I know you don't want to talk to him," Kurt whispered. "I know you really don't, but you've only got one brother, Blaine. Maybe this time'll be different. You never know, maybe he's ready to listen."

Blaine nodded stiffly. "I'll talk to him. Maybe."

Kurt kissed him again, deeper, opening his mouth with his own to slide his tongue inside. "You wanna talk about something else?"

Blaine grinned wryly, lust rising in his eyes. "Like what?"

"Well," Kurt kissed up beside his ear, dropping his voice to a dark whisper. "We have the house to ourselves again tonight..." His hand slipped between his legs, rubbing teasing circles on the zipper of his jeans. Blaine whined in his throat, his soft lips suckling on his neck. "I think it's an opportunity we should take advantage of."

Blaine chuckled darkly, staring at him. "I've created a monster."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sexy times will be continued next time!


	20. What A Feeling

20

**What A Feeling**

He leaned into his lips. Kurt bit, lapped and sucked, naughtiness he didn't know he was capable of slowly taking over. He slid out of his vest and his tie, sending his fingers up Blaine's shirt to tease him before clawing back down, making the bad boy keen and shudder. "You want me, Blaine?" He asked huskily, lips a breath away from his.

"Yes, of course I do, look at you," he whined, capturing Kurt's mouth for a heated kiss, tangling their tongues together again. He dragged his hands down his back, squeezing his ass when he got there. He pulled him into his lap, gasping when Kurt started grinding down on his groin. "Shit!" He choked.

Blaine took off the rest of the layers separating his hands from Kurt's skin, whining hungrily when he saw it. He buried his face in his sternum, dragging his tongue all the way up to his lips again, tasting him like a cat taking in cream. Kurt cried out, shivering again, mouth widening into a grin.

"More," he demanded. Blaine, obeying, went back to his chest, mouthing his collarbone, stroking his sides with his thin fingers, skilled tongue finally finding his nipple. "MMN, that's right, that's right good boy. Uhn!" He rotated his hips again. Blaine growled in response, abusing the other. Kurt gasped, fisting his fingers in his hair. "Shit, Blaine."

"You should see what else I can do with my mouth," he offered, breath hot on his neck. Kurt swallowed hard, breath shaking a little.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Show me, please." He kissed and sucked down his stomach, pausing, hesitating.

"Wait, are you sure you want to do this in the living room?" He asked, once again not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Kurt, however, grinned, tugging his hair again.

"Yes," he breathed. "Fuck yes I do."

Blaine caressed his thighs through the denim, one of the few pairs that didn't cling to his body but still hugged in all the right places. He unbuttoned them, watching Kurt's face for any sign of unease. They hadn't done this before, and what with Kurt being so sensitive he needed to be careful.

"I'm not a China Doll, Blaine," he reminded. "If I need you to stop, I'll say so, until then _hurry up_." Blaine groaned again. He tore the zipper open, kissing his lower belly as he ripped his pants from his legs, tossing them behind him. He massaged him through his underwear, watching those pink lips part, harsh breaths gusting from his throat, eyes fluttering. "_Now._" He demanded.

The dark-haired boy cautiously brought his tongue to his member, lapping softly at the tip. Kurt moaned aloud, jerking violently, breath leaving him. "Are you okay?"

"Do-do it again, please," he groaned, desperate. He licked him again, taking him into his mouth and delving down, hollowing his cheeks. He whimpered, white spots appearing in the darkness at the sensations. He shuddered, his breaths coming in short gasps, on the verge of hyperventilating, eyes wide.

"Are you alright?" He whispered.

"Don't stop, please for the love of God don't stop," he begged, tangling his fingers in his hair again. Blaine hummed, snaking the tip of his tongue up the shaft, mouthing along the underside before taking Kurt into his mouth again, taking him as far as he could go, suckling and moaning at the _taste_ of him.

Kurt's fingers were clenched too tight in his hair, he knew that. He also knew that any more of this could lead to a heart attack. He felt every minute flick of Blaine's tongue, heard every swallow, the hums sending vibrations to coil in his stomach, white hot and _burning. _His piercing was currently massaging just under the head, his hands gently touching his legs and his thighs. "Blaine, Blaine, oh...Oh god...Please, this feels..." Blaine picked up speed, sucking harder, deeper, his nose touching Kurt's skin.

"OH!" Kurt jerked out of reflex, wincing when Blaine gagged a little. "Sorry, sorry, I just, ohn, please…" Blaine kissed his hip as an acceptance of his apology, tugging his pants a little further down his thighs before burying his lips and his tongue into the newly uncovered flesh, placing gentle licks and kisses wherever he could reach, the strain in his own jeans becoming painful. Kurt whimpered, jerked and yelped his name over and over, fisting his shirt so tight it hurt his knuckles. "Please, yes, oh please yes. Oh god…Hnn…"

He dragged the tip of his piercing along the underside of his member before closing his mouth closed over him again, sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks again. Kurt jerked into his mouth, whimpering, breath coming out in harsh sobs. His thighs squeezed Blaine's sides, coming undone. He fell back against the cushions, head thrown back. His hair hung limp around his head, drenched in sweat, trembling.

Blaine looked up at him, seeing how flushed and pliant he'd become, how desperate. His tongue ventured to his lips, Blaine's name on his breath. He moaned, eyes fluttering and focusing again on Kurt's glorious taste. "Mmn…"

"Blaine, oh, Blaine, I'm going to…" He whined, hips jerking weakly. Blaine sucked harder, fingers wrapping around the base and pumping rapidly in an alternate rhythm. "Oh! Blaine, I'm going to-! I'm gonna c-cum, please!" He clapped his hand over his mouth, stifling his scream as he released down Blaine's throat.

The criminal swallowed wantonly, humming at the taste, kissing the soft skin sloping from his hips as he tugged his pants back up, fastening them into place before pecking his lips. Kurt struggled briefly for air, a small, satisfied smile on his lips, deepening the kiss, tasting himself. "That was incredible," he breathed. "That- you, oh lord." He smiled at him, touching his cheek. He felt a flush there, felt want and desire that had yet to be taken care of. He chewed his lip, swallowing hard. "Blaine?"

"Yeah?" He breathed hoarsely, shifting where he sat, trying to will his arousal away.

"Can…can I try that for you?" He said it so quietly Blaine hardly heard him. His heart stopped momentarily, staring at those beautiful eyes that would never see him. To see those sweet, plump red lips on him, sucking and urging release out of him. So innocent and beautiful.

"You…you don't have to if you don't want to," he assured, mouth dry.

Kurt smirked, kissing his neck, placing a strategic hand in his lap. "Trust me, baby. I want to." He slid off the couch and onto his knees, hands shaking as he undid Blaine's belt, taking away his jeans first, touching the elastic of his underwear. His fingers trembled as he touched him and the surrounding skin, feeling the outline of his girth under the fabric. Blaine's breath hitched, watching his face as his hands mapped out his body, memorizing textures and the irregularities in Blaine's breathing as he touched.

"You, you'll tell me if I do something wrong, right?" He breathed. He kissed him, running his fingers through that thick hair of his.

"You'll be just fine, baby," he promised, kissing him again. Kurt nodded, pretending the adrenaline that was pumping through him was confidence, finding the courage to tug down his underwear. The heat just inches from his nose was overpowering, the want and need for such a thing taking him over, dilating his unused pupils. He mouthed over the skin, taking the member in his hand, relishing the feel, so hot and stiff in his hand, like silk stretched over a steel rod.

Blaine tensed, breath gone as those plump lips took him into his mouth, tongue searing, tentative and hesitant. He hissed softly.

"No teeth, no teeth," he breathed.

"Sorry!" He blurted, flushing, setting back to his work. He mapped it out with his tongue, feeling Blaine's entire body tense, tasting him and the sweat slowly starting to coat his skin.

"Kurt," he whined, carding his fingers through his hair, shuddering. Kurt took him in deeper, testing his own limits, wanting the taste of him to coat his mouth. His breath hitched, biting down on his knuckle to keep the noise down, forcing his hips to be still by sheer will. He didn't want to frighten him, throw him off or hurt him in any way, but God, his mouth was so sweet. It was inexperienced, hesitant and a little overzealous. But he was also so careful not to repeat his mistake from before, gentle and curious, determined to make Blaine feel as good as he made him. That, and the knowledge that his was the first Kurt had ever done this with made the soft gasps jump from his throat, moans wanton and pleading.

"Mm, Kurt," he breathed, still stroking his hair back. "So good, hn, that feels…" He trailed off, eyes lolling to the back of his head when he teased the tip of his arousal with the tip of his tongue, hands pumping from the base very slowly, as he'd just learned on himself minutes before. His lips were swollen, lush and so red, flushed up to his ears, humming softly at the taste.

"You taste good," he whispered, parting himself from him briefly to speak before taking him in again, sucking hard and deep. He held his hip with his free hand, pumping faster, bobbing his head. New sounds poured from Blaine's mouth, surprised at the sudden enthusiasm, shuddering.

"Oh, Kurt!" He winced, tensed from head to toe, trembling. "More, more, baby, don't stop."

He obliged, taking him as far as he could, licking a stripe along the underside from base to tip, placing a few mewling licks on the slit before engulfing him again.

"Cum, Blaine," he whispered, palm splayed out on his chest, feeling the thuds of his heart against his ribs. "Cum for me so I can know what you taste like."

His toes curled, throwing his head back and crying out, stilling his head, fingers clenching on his scalp as he released, allowing his hips to jerk a few times before stilling again.

Kurt swallowed with grace he didn't know he had, barely tasting anything from it going down so fast, satisfied with himself as he continued to work Blaine through it.

He helped him wriggle his pants back on, kissing him once he did. "How bad was it?" He asked, grimacing. Blaine shook his head, kissing him again.

"With practice you'll make me pass out," he grinned. Kurt shrugged.

"I'm a fast learner, sorry," he teased. Blaine grinned, holding his waist and nuzzling his nose.

"Don't be sorry. It's great."

Kurt pulled him into his arms, letting his head rest against his chest, combing through his curls. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing the top of his head, "for being so gentle with me." Blaine smiled that blissful, dimpled grin that took the hardness away from his face and brought out the innocence still inside him, a smile he would only give when he and Kurt were alone.

"Thank you for being so perfect," he said, pecking his neck. Kurt pulled him on top of him as he lied down, pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over them. Blaine nuzzled his face into his chest, allowing himself to keep the walls down, safe in Kurt's arms.

"So are you gonna talk to him?" Kurt whispered. Blaine sighed, shutting his eyes. "I know, I know, but…just let him talk. He came all this way to see you."

"Okay," he sighed, too tired to argue. "Alright. I'll talk to him."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	21. Flash

21

**Flash**

"No, it's not acceptable. NO! Mom, you could've told me- You _lied_ to me about what he'd done to Blaine. You both told me so much about how awful he was, how rowdy and out of control when you let him BEAT HIM. HE'S YOUR SON, HE-! No, no, stop," Cooper shut his eyes, shaking with rage. "He hates me because of what you told me, because I trusted you and I didn't listen to my own baby brother. He loathes me, and he has every right to. I hope you're happy, and I hope you realize that you no longer have children because of this. No, no, I don't want to talk to him. No-"

"_I don't know what lies that little prick has told you-"_

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He bellowed into the receiver. "You hurt him, you tortured your own son. How fucking _dare_ you try and tell me otherwise. I hope you fucking rot in there. I hope they put you in there for so long that by the time you get out you'll be too fucking weak to attempt to lay a hand on him. But mostly I hope you meet someone that'll do everything you did to your child _EVERY FUCKING DAY!" _He shut the cell phone before hurtling it across the room, watching the screen crack and shatter against the door as he did. He turned, fingers ripping through his hair, frustrated tears in his eyes, rage keeping him from seeing straight.

"Good thing the new iPhone's coming out next week."

He turned, eyes wide at the voice, unable to stop his smile and combined shock. "Blaine."

"Hey, Coop," he said quietly, trying to stay indifferent. "Who, um, who was that?"

"Dad," he sighed, looking haggard and much older than he really was. "Did you need something? Come here to beat my ass? I'll let you," he chuckled.

"No, I didn't come here to hit you," he affirmed, folding his lips. "I, um…I just wanted to talk to you. Well, let you talk. I didn't really let you speak before, so…If-if you want to…"

"You were right," he said, nodding painfully. "I never, _ever_ gave you the benefit of the doubt, never listened to what you were saying. I always believed them because…because I don't know which was worse: thinking my little brother was a criminal or knowing my parents were lying to me and hurting you. I," he cleared his throat, blinking a few times. "I am so, _so_ sorry, Blaine. I'm so sorry for everything. What I've said, what I've done. I'm so sorry." He stepped closer to him, lips pressed into a line. "You aren't some common criminal, Blaine. You're not out to get attention or-or trying to make Mom and Dad's lives miserable you're just…" He looked away briefly, eyes misted. "You're my little brother that I wasn't there for. I wasn't there for you and I don't deserve any sort of forgiveness from you but…I'm telling you this so you know how sorry I am, okay? God, I'm rambling," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"Blaine, if you let me I'll try to make it up to you. I've seen what monsters they are and…and _fuck_ I left you _alone_ with them! I let Dad hurt you and Mom ignore you. I let this happen. I could've done something when you asked me to. I could've…I'm so sorry," he swallowed again. "I want to protect you. I want to be your brother and take care of you because…because, damn it, I should have a long time ago.

"I don't expect you to let me. I don't expect you to forgive me, but please, please hit me or something. I can't take this if you don't. I haven't been there, I haven't done anything right," he smiled at him through tears that were harder and harder to fight. "But I-I am so _proud_ of you."

Blaine stared at him, tears in his own eyes. "Wh-what?"

"I'm proud of you," he repeated, smiling and clasping his shoulders. "I'm proud of you, Blaine."

Blaine looked away from him, lower lip trembling. He shook his head. "Nothin' to be proud of, Coop," he said gruffly. The elder Anderson finally let a tear fall, pulling him into a hug.

"Yes there is," he whispered, holding the back of his head. "There's so much to be proud of, Blaine." Blaine waited a beat before hugging him back, squeezing tight.

"Cooper-"

"I've got you, I've got you. I'm here. I'm here, shh…" He held him for some time, eyes shut, guilt absolutely overflowing. "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere this time." Tears seeped from his eyes and into his brother's shirt, clinging to him, to home, to the shred of family he had left.

"Just, just don't leave me again," he breathed, barely daring to speak.

"Hey," Cooper whispered. "I won't. I promise, I won't." He waited a moment before speaking again. "I want to run something by you, and-and you can take all the time you need but...at least think about it."

* * *

><p>Kurt <em>hated<em> assemblies. They were loud, the band was deafening and the people. Yes, winter sports were great and obviously needed a pep rally for such an occasion, but did they have to release them in a class he didn't have with Blaine?

"Blaine!" he tried to yell over the crowd, listening hard for a familiar voice. "Blaine!"

"What's the matter, Hummel?" A voice hissed beside his ear. His blood went cold. "Can't find your butt-buddy?"

"L-leave me alone," he demanded. The voice chuckled low in his throat.

"See, normally your little glee freaks or your brother would be here to stop me. Too bad they can't see you through the Cheerios and, well…you can't see them, can you?"

"Karofsky, leave me _alone_," he said, panicking. He felt something dig into his side…a knife.

_Oh god…_

"Come with me without a fuss and I won't use this," he warned. He walked him out of the gym and toward the locker room, everyone too enamored with the show to pay attention to them. He could feel the knife handle digging painfully into his hip, the blade pointed at his belly, all hidden by his coat.

He gasped when he was shoved inside into the locker room, regaining his footing again before falling. The larger boy grabbed his collar, shoving him against the wall of a shower, arm holding his chest to keep him still.

Kurt whimpered when the knife pressed against his neck, fighting tears, straining his ears for some other sign of life.

"Please," he squeaked. "D-don't do this, David. Don't hurt me, please."

"Shh," his face was too close, body pressing against him. You don't even know what I'm going to do yet." A quiet sob jumped from Kurt's lips, shaking all over.

"B-Blaine's gonna-"

"You tell _anyone_ about this and I'll take that pretty face of yours and make it so no one can recognize you. Blaine wouldn't come _near_ you," he snarled. "You breathe a word of this to anyone and _I will kill you_. Understand?" He hissed, so close to him.

"Please," he gulped, tears leaking down his cheeks. He grunted when lips forced themselves on his own, a strong hand on his jaw opening his mouth, assaulting it with his tongue, teeth at his lips, cutting his skin and hurting him. Kurt whimpered, fighting to get away from him, only to be kissed harder and held down with more force. "Shut up or I swear I'll cut you."

Kurt stopped, wishing he would calm down enough to think, to process what was happening to him to fight back. Fear clouded his thoughts and paralyzed his body, keeping him absolutely still.

"Blaine…"

* * *

><p>Rachel peered around the gym, frowning. "Where's Kurt?"<p>

"Probably sucking face with-"

"I'm right here," Blaine acknowledged. Artie blushed an apology.

"Guys, seriously, where is he?" Mercedes said, trying to look around the drum line and wall of basketball players. "Did he have a class with any of you?" They shook their heads. Blaine stood, looking around as well, trying to find his well-dressed beauty in the sea of teens. He frowned, starting down toward the court.

"I'll go look for him," he nodded, his own worry piquing. He was probably in the library lost in the special version of _Vogue_ he got delivered to his house and didn't pay much attention to the announcements.

"Hey, jail-bait!" He turned, smirking at Becky as she came toward him. "Guess what?"

"Make it quick, sugar, I'm in a hurry," he said. She pursed her lips.

"I just saw your little boy toy leave with David Karofsky. He givin' him somethin' you can't?" She challenged, her own unique way of teasing. He frowned.

"Karofksy?" He repeated, just to be sure.

"Yep," she nodded. "They were headed to the locker room."

"Thanks, Becky."

* * *

><p>"BLAINE, BLAINE, STOP!" Bieste wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to haul him up and away from the bloodied boy on the floor while Will tried to grab his arms.<p>

"YOU MOTHER FUCKER! YOU DISGUSTING MOTHER FUCKER! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He screamed, lashing out at him with his boots. "DON'T YOU EVER TOUCH HIM AGAIN!"

"Porcelain? Hey, shh," Sue soothed, trying to get Kurt's attention and coax him out of the corner he'd plastered himself in. His shirt was in tatters on the floor, the buttons of his jeans busted, zipper broken as well. He trembled, tears streaming down his cheeks. "It's alright, it's alright now. Come here." She held his shoulders, turning him away from the cold stone and into her arms, absolutely enraged.

"It's okay, Kurt," Rachel assured, smoothing his hair. "Coach Sylvester's just trying to help, it's alright."

"Blaine," he shuddered, barely able to speak.

"Kurt!" Blaine wrenched out of the teachers' hands, rushing toward him and staggering to his knees to touch him. He held his cheek, thumbing the tears away. "Kurt, it's okay, it's alright. _God_, I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner, I-"

Kurt wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could, needing to feel his hands, his warmth, his touch, to hear his heartbeat and soft words that would make this go away. He felt bruises forming on his body already and tried so desperately to tune out the other yelling from teachers, defenses from David and Coach Sylvester's demand for expulsion and blood.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay. I've got you. Shh…" He soothed, his own rage cooling and transforming to agony. He saw the handprints coming into focus on his arms, scratches on his back and his shoulders, a hickey coloring on his neck. "God, Kurt."

"Don't let me go. Please, don't let go," he trembled, the darkness he was trapped in felt cold and unforgiving, only gaining warmth from Blaine's words and body. If that were gone he'd become lost in it, lost for who knows how long.

"I've got you. I won't let you go." He was shaking so hard, feeling small and fragile like Blaine had never felt. Even in his vulnerable moments Kurt was never this…this afraid. More yelling and confusion, half a dozen conversations happening at once while Blaine tried to engulf him, keep him shielded from all the pain and worry as he'd done for him months ago.

"I called the police, there's an ambulance on the way," he heard Emma say.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Will asked, seeing something Kurt couldn't.

"Uh, his...Mr. Hummel's on his way."

* * *

><p>AN: More soon!


	22. Pit of the Soul

22

**Pit of the Soul**

Kurt was crying, hard, listening to the fabric of his sweater tear, feeling the cold air claw at his skin, quickly taking him over and making him shiver. "Please…" He begged. Hands he prayed would disappear forced him to turn around, a mouth on the back of his neck and his shoulders, those hands holding his hips down and in place, never letting up or allowing him peace.

"Shh…" Karofsky hissed, scraping his nails down his back, hurting him. He sobbed into the tile, arching away from his hands. He felt the knife at his hip and…and…and his pants were mercilessly torn open, a button snapping, zipper breaking under the strain of such power.

"Please, please, no. God, don't do this. Please, please!" He whimpered. Those same hands with awful, agonizing force snaked around his stomach, touching his soft flesh before dipping lower, past the waistband of his underwear. "No, no, NO! NOHOH, PLEASE! PLEASE!" Lips tearing at his skin, cheeks raw with tears. Every tiny, minute movement resonated through him, making him tremble from head-to-toe.

"Shut the fuck up!" He spat, knife at his throat. "You shut the fuck up right now, bitch. I'll fucking kill you."

"Please, please, I want Blaine," he sobbed, knees giving out beneath him, the wall left to support him. He felt his jeans slide down to his thighs, briefs going with it. He shook his head, hard, choking a gasp when a hand closed around his throat, pinning his face where it was. "Anything but this, please, please, _anything_ else!"

"_SHUT UP!"_

He squealed when he felt hot, burning flesh pressing against his own, threatening to violate him and tear him apart from the inside out. "God, please, please, DON'T!"

The door burst open. "Kurt?"

The voice of an angel to save him from hell. "_Blaine!"_ He managed, throat sore. The hand on his hip tightened, squeezing to hard, bruising and scraping in an instant. He thought his bones would break.

"Kurt-! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! YOU GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!"

The God-awful heat at his back was gone, allowing him to hastily pull up his pants before falling to his knees, crying into his hands.

The crunches and cursing that echoed behind him were horrendous. David's grunts and Blaine's _screams_ were too loud, hurting his ears. He covered them, crying, feeling absolutely filthy and unbearably disgusting.

"Disgusting mother fucker, HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HIM!"

The red in his vision was almost as intense as the rage boiling in his stomach. To see Kurt, his sweet, innocent Kurt nearly naked, shuddering, sobbing with this monster's hands ravaging him was enough to drive him insane.

And at the moment, he was.

He drove his boot into his gut over and over before striking his groin. "YOU SON OF A BITCH! DON'T YOU EVER, EVER FUCKING TOUCH HIM AGAIN! I SWEAR TO GOD-"

His words were drowned out by the door opening. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOIN' ON?!" Shannon roared, assessing the scene quickly and poking her head back out. "WILL, SUE, I NEED YOUR HELP!"

Blaine was violent, sure, but this level of carnage, this _need _for wanting to rip him to shreds was a little overwhelming. The blood dripping from his nose and his lips wasn't enough. He wanted to feel his bones crush under his hands, wanted to hear that satisfying crunch as he shattered him to pieces. Shattered him until he was worse than that awful look on Kurt's face when he'd walked in. "_Disgusting, fucking, asshole!_" He snarled, throwing him back to the tile to stomp his ribs.

He didn't hear Bieste come back in with Mr. Schuester in tow. He flailed and thrashed when he was taken away, needing more to force him to atone for hurting the light in his life.

Sue went to Kurt immediately, taking off her jacket and draping it around his shoulders before coaxing him out of that corner, Rachel following with the rest of the Glee club, running to Kurt's side.

Blaine barely saw them, barely heard their cries of outrage, unsure if he was screaming with his voice or his mind anymore.

_HE HURT KURT, HE HURT MY ANGEL, HE HURT THE ONE GOOD THING IN MY LIFE! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LET THAT GO?!_

* * *

><p>Burt Hummel was not a particularly violent man. But the moment someone dared to harm his son all sanity was out the window. No, no he wasn't about to allow <em>anyone<em> to harm the most precious thing he had in this world. Anger didn't _begin_ to cover what he was feeling. It wasn't enough; there…there weren't words to describe the feeling of knowing something terrible had happened to his child in a place he was supposed to be safe.

His son. His child. His baby.

If not for Carole being with him he'd have killed someone by now, would've screamed louder than he already had and unleashed a hell yet to be seen on this town.

He couldn't. Not for Carole, not for Finn or Blaine, and not for Kurt. He didn't need anger and loud voices around right now. He needed his dad to be gentle with him and make him feel safe again.

He was sitting on the edge of the ambulance. One of Blaine's spare band T-shirts and what looked to be Sue Sylvester's jacket had replaced his cashmere sweater from this morning, and thinking of what had happened to it made his stomach flip horribly. A shock blanket had been draped over his shoulders, his head leaning against a cuffed Blaine's chest, eyes empty. So empty and cold, seeing so many things in his darkness that they would never know of. Blaine kissed the top of his head, his own eyes closed, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to hold him close and never let go.

Carole patted his hand and went to her own child to see what had happened, leaving Burt to feel as if he were floating toward him rather than walking, the hand on his arm that had been grounding him allowing him to free-fall now. He said nothing when he reached him, finding his throat clogged with too many words and tears. He carefully reached out to smooth his hair, giving Blaine an approving nod, doing his best to ignore the boy being loaded into the ambulance behind him.

Kurt gasped softly, recognizing the touch of the presence he'd sensed moments ago, tears he'd thought had run out springing to his eyes. "Dad?" He sat up, looking toward the person, desperate. "Daddy?"

"I've gotcha," Burt managed, holding his cheek. "I'm here, buddy." Kurt immediately wrapped his arms around his father's waist, not letting go as the parent knelt in front of him and held him close, smoothing his hair. "Shh, I'm here. I'm here, it's okay."

"He touched me, he touched me, Daddy," he whimpered, hoarse. "I was so scared, I-I tried to be brave, I did, but- He had a _knife_, he- He said it was…it wasn't really. _God_, it was just a toy. But-but I thought…Daddy, help me!"

Burt let his tears fall freely, not strong enough to keep them back anymore. He rubbed slow, small circles on his back, kissing his forehead. "It's okay. I'm here. He can't hurt you anymore, he won't touch you again. I've gotcha, I'm here."

He sobbed against him, chest aching, so scared. Blaine watched, anguish in his own eyes, hands sore and bruised, the cuffs digging uncomfortably.

"Mr. Hummel?"

"I-I already answered your questions-"

"Shh, he's talking to me, buddy," Burt said softly, patting his shoulder. He slowly let him go, guiding him back to Blaine where he readily linked his wrists around his neck, clinging to him and not caring who saw or what they thought.

The criminal's arms itched to hold him, hands twisting in the metal as if sheer will would be enough to get them off. He just wanted to hold him. "Shh, it's alright. I'm here. I've got you." He leaned his cheek against his, listening to his quiet, erratic breaths, still scared to death that he would be harmed in some fashion. It was easy to feel that way when you could never hope to see what was coming.

"I wanna go home," he breathed. "I want to go home, Blaine. I want you to hold me and tell me he can't touch me again because I can't believe it right now. I can't because I can still feel him."

"Shh, hey, hey, you're going home soon," he assured, kissing his temple. "They said you don't need to go to the hospital and your dad's gonna get you out of here as soon as he can. I swear."

"I won't go without you."

"Kurt, I hit him. That's the way it works, I lash out and they-"

"_He tried to rape me and you got upset," _he hissed, broken. "Y-you stopped him from…If they take you away for that then…That's not fair, I can't do this without you!"

"I know, I know," he nodded, pained. "But I'm here right now, okay? I'm right here. It's alright, Kurt."

_God damn it, why can't I hold him?!_

The officer that had been speaking to Burt came toward him, taking a key from his belt and unlocking the handcuffs. "No charges filed, kid. Consider yourself-"

"He stopped that kid from violating my son and you want to call him _lucky_?" Burt intervened, rage and fire in his eyes.

"I didn't mean-"

"But that's what you said," he glowered at him, fists clenched. "Get away from my son, officer." He stepped away, mumbling something about respect for the uniform or some other garbage.

As soon as his defenses didn't have to be up anymore, Blaine took Kurt into an embrace, holding him close and tight. The blind boy hugged him back, crying again, shuddering, needing to feel him again. As soon as the police had gotten there they'd torn him away, leaving Kurt to cling to Coach Sylvester until she bullied them into allowing him to sit with him. It was still so cold in his dark, Blaine once again being the only source of light in his heart.

"I'm here. Right here, baby. Shh…Right here. Don't cry, don't cry, it's alright." He stroked his hair and his cheeks, keeping him as near as possible, even pulling him into his lap. And Kurt cried as if he'd never stop.

Burt kept a comforting hand on his shoulder, another tear finding its way to his face again, hastily wiping it away when he saw Carole coming back to him.

"What'd Finn say?" He asked softly. She sighed, looking at the wounded young man with tears in her eyes.

"Dave coerced Kurt into going in the locker room with him. He had a knife, well, a prop that was real enough and he…he tried to…" She chewed her lip, taking a deep breath before continuing. "If Blaine hadn't come in when he did, Kurt would be a lot worse than this."

He looked at his son, his broken, battered son, trembling so hard in Blaine's arms and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Can I go home now?" Kurt gulped, such begging and plea in his quivering voice. "Please."

"Yes," Blaine nodded, swallowing hard. "Right now, baby. We're going right now."

Echoes and ghosts of hands on his body only shooed away by Blaine's voice. "Blaine, sing. Can you do that for me, please?"

"Shh," he held him to his chest, smoothing his hair and kissing his temple, singing softly into his ear, trying desperately to keep his tears out of his voice. "_Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're less than, less than perfect. Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're nothin''. You are perfect to me." _


	23. Dimmed

23

**Dimmed**

Kurt retched into the toilet again, gripping the edge of the bowl, coughing, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. Blaine shushed him softly, gently rubbing his back, repeating over and over again that it was alright. Kurt trembled hard, gasping, choking and leaning back into him to be sure he was there.

"I've got you," Blaine whispered. "I'm right here. It's okay. You sure you don't need to go to the hospital?"

"I'm just scared," he breathed. "I'll be okay."

"Hey," he said softly, kissing his cheek. "You don't have to pretend for my sake. If you're upset, you're upset. You have every right to be, baby. It's okay."

"I don't want to go to the hospital," he trembled, voice breaking, tears coming again. The sight made his chest ache. He held him, gingerly at first, waiting for him to pull away if he didn't want the contact. He leaned back into him, taking huge gulps of air, shaking so hard. "Don't make me go, please."

"I won't. I won't. They said you were alright, but you need to calm down, okay? If you don't calm down I'm gonna have to take you to the emergency room. Just breathe. Just breathe…" He whispered, rocking him, arms protectively wrapped around his chest. "Breathe with me, Kurt. In...out…in…out, there you go. Easy. In…out…" The blind boy obliged, steadying his pulse and his body, the tremors fading just a little. "What do you need, baby?" He asked, his own voice strained. "Just tell me what you need."

"D-Dad thinks I sh-should talk to Ms. Pillsbury, but-but I can't! I can't talk to anyone! Th-there's nothing to talk about!" He trembled, gasping again. "They saw what happened, they know what happened, why do I have to say it?" He sobbed aloud, trying not to scream, to shriek the agony he was in.

"Shh, shh, hey, it's alright. It's okay. Don't get worked up again, baby," he soothed. "What can I do?"

"I-I don't know!" He moaned, whimpering, sobbing softly. "Just don't leave me alone. Don't leave me in the dark, Blaine."

"I'm not gonna leave you, baby. I'm right here. Right here. It's okay. I love you," he whispered. "And I'm right here." Tears slipped down Blaine's cheeks, gently stroking his hair. He waited for Kurt's breathing to quiet before slowly helping him up, hushing him gently. "Shh, shh, it's alright. Come here, come here. It's alright, Kurt. Shh, I'm here. I'm here. I've got you. Come here."

Kurt stood, body never turning from Blaine's warmth, panicking just a little whenever he was too far away, holding himself. He trembled, knees weak, wishing he could stop crying and be brave. He smiled graciously when Blaine pushed his toothbrush into his hand, gently kissing his temple and stepping to the cabinet, retrieving a washcloth while Kurt got the ungodly taste of bile out of his mouth. Five minutes later he was finally satisfied, rinsing his mouth and taking a shaky breath. He gasped quietly when Blaine pressed the warm rag to his cheek, wiping away tears and attempting to soothe the swell in his face.

"You know that only works with cold water," he croaked.

Blaine smiled. "I didn't want you to be cold." Kurt sniffed, holding onto Blaine's shoulder, shaky.

"I-I need to take a shower," he whispered, still nervous.

"Do you want me with you?" He said gently.

"I don't know," he gulped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just, I don't-"

"Shh, okay, okay," he said, holding his shoulders. "I can go get you clothes, your towel and your robe and fix you something to eat, okay?" He nodded, sniffling. "You just yell if you need me, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed, hesitating letting him go. "Just a minute. I-I don't want to let go yet," he breathed.

"It's okay. It's perfectly okay, baby."

It took ten minutes of Kurt resting his cheek against Blaine's shoulder, his arms wrapped and clinging to his back too tight but Blaine wasn't about to move. He smoothed his hair and shushed him quietly, swaying with him. They stood in silence, Kurt trying to brace himself, Blaine waiting and willing to do so for the rest of his life.

"Okay," he finally breathed, releasing him. "Okay."

Blaine kissed his hand before letting him go, chest aching. "Remember, just yell if you need me."

"Okay," he nodded, breath trembling.

Blaine left with the door halfway open, his ears perked to any noise just in case Kurt needed him.

He went to his room, making his bed and taking out the most comfortable clothes he could find. He came back into the bathroom, setting out his towels and his robe, clothes on the counter beside his lotion. "Kurt?" He said gently, watching his silhouette jump a little behind the curtain. "Sorry, sorry, baby. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured, eased by his presence again. "I'm alright, Blaine."

"Okay, I'm going downstairs, alright? I'll be up in just a minute," he assured.

"Okay."

Kurt listened to him leave, setting back to washing his hair. He felt the water work through the knots and aches in his body, taking away a few layers of the filth he'd felt since that moment. He swallowed, crying still, wishing he could go back to this morning. He didn't feel so used then. He didn't feel like he'd been soiled and Blaine shouldn't touch him anymore. He didn't relive awful touches every time his shirt touched his skin. The bruises and scratches weren't there either. He sniffed, so scared.

He knew David could be dangerous, he knew the constant shoving and tossing into dumpsters would climax at some point. But…but the result had always been different in hindsight. He'd thought he'd be in the hospital from receiving the beating of a lifetime, not being touched and groped and-

He gave a quiet sob, shuddering aloud and snatching up his body soap. He scrubbed the loofa into his skin a little too hard, hurting himself. If not for Blaine being so close he might've taken away skin and stepped out of here raw and stinging. But it might get rid of that feeling.

He shut off the water, forcing himself to, and stepped out, drying quickly, hating being naked in the open air. He shivered, for reasons other than the cold, feeling for his underwear.

"Here baby," Blaine said, stepping into the room and offering them to him. Kurt nodded his thanks, hesitating to take his towel off. "I'll turn around, okay?" He offered, spinning on the spot. Kurt reached out to touch his back, just to be sure before slipping them over his waist.

"You can turn around now," he assured.

Blaine was sure he'd never get over how beautiful Kurt was. How smooth and soft his skin looked, how elegant each line of his body flowed together, and the always present innocence in his gorgeous eyes was always breathtaking. No, he'd never, _ever_ get over this beautiful boy.

The bruises and cuts on that precious skin ignited such fury in him, that same blind, red rage that made him scream, shriek and rip the boy that had done this to him apart. He walked to him, gently kissing a deep scratch on his neck, tears welling in his eyes again.

"Don't," he whimpered, bowing his head and shrinking away. "Don't do that, Blaine. Please."

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he said, taking a step back. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I need to get dressed," he whispered, so vulnerable and small like this. He snatched up his robe, knowing the guilt he was forcing on Blaine by doing so. "I-it's not that I don't want- that I don't trust you-"

"Shh," he soothed, taking his hand. "I understand, baby. It's okay." He gave a soft squeeze before letting him go, handing him the rest of his clothes, keeping his head turned to allow him privacy.

Kurt sighed, wrapped in layers, warm again. He attempted to moisturize his face and his hands, trembling, tears welling again as he tried, Blaine standing quietly and waiting.

"Shh…" Blaine whispered, carefully pulling him from his chair and bringing him up into his arms. "Come here, come here, baby. It's okay."

He guided him into his room, a reassuring hand on his shoulders, sitting him on his bed. He gently handed him a bowl of leftover soup they'd had yesterday, kissing his forehead again.

He went around, picking up his clothes and plopping them in the hamper, putting his shoes away, trying to do anything and everything he could to make things easier. And damn it, he had to keep his hands busy or he'd go insane. He'd scream and yell and break things. He'd scare Kurt, make him worry and probably make him cry if he behaved that way. He'd cried enough. He'd been hurt enough.

He wanted to call Burt and see if that fuckin' bastard that did this was dead yet, or what the fuck was going on to begin with. Just to know that some justice was being given to what he'd done.

Kurt set the bowl down, sniffling, graciously accepting the cup of tea Blaine gave him, sipping slowly, the warm liquid soothing his throat and settling his stomach.

"Feeling any better?" He whispered, cupping his cheek. He swallowed the lump in his throat again, still shaky.

"No," he admitted. "I just…I'm tired."

"Go ahead and sleep, baby," he urged. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, desperate for his embrace that made him feel so safe. Secure.

"Stay with me," he pleaded quietly, begging. Scared.

"Of course. Whatever you need," he swore, cradling him. He got him into the blankets. Kurt squeezed as close to him as he could, nuzzling into his neck, trying to surround himself in him to drown out the pain. Blaine tilted his chin, attempting to kiss him. Kurt turned away, shaking his head.

"I can't. Not right now, please. I'm sorry."

"Shh, hey," he rested his cheek beside his, allowing him to see his expression while he spoke. "Kurt, this is your body. That's your mouth and your voice, not mine. I'm not entitled to anything, whether I'm your boyfriend or not."

"Still-"

"Shh, no. Just sleep, baby."

"Wasn't there something you needed to tell me?" He breathed, changing the subject. Blaine shook his head.

"It's not important. It can wait," he assured. Kurt shook his head.

"Tell me. I-I want to think about something else anyway," he gulped. Blaine looked down at him, watching his face, so weary and void, the glow in his skin gone. His chest clenched in it's already painful vice.

"I talked to Cooper," he offered, keeping his tone light, smile fake. "We fixed things."

"That's great," he said shakily, a real smile beamed his way.

"He…he said he bought a house here in Lima and…and he wants to adopt me so my parents can't try anything if my dad gets out," he said, smiling softly. Kurt squeezed him, still giving that genuine, precious smile through his own pain.

"That's wonderful," he said, resting against his chest.

"It's not important right now," he said gently, stroking his hair back. "You getting some sleep is important, okay? You rest. I'm right here and I'm gonna hold you, okay? I've got you." Kurt shut his eyes, still clinging to him, scared. "Shh…"

They lied in silence for some time, Kurt's breathing not getting any easier, tears leaking down his cheeks, still so afraid. Blaine kissed his forehead again, resting there. Kurt sniffled, nuzzling his face into Blaine's shirt, trying to focus on sleep, immersing himself in Blaine's arms, so afraid.

Blaine swallowed, shushing him softly, knowing what would soothe him. _"And if you have a minute why don't we go, talk about it, somewhere only we know…_" Kurt sighed, finally relaxing, letting Blaine's smooth voice fill his ears and find its way to his heart, still cradling him more gently than he'd ever touched anything in his life. "_So why don't we go, somewhere only we know?" _


	24. Up in Smoke

24

**Up in Smoke**

Kurt woke whimpering in the middle of the night, body trembling with a cold sweat working over him. He gasped raggedly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He slowly became aware of his surroundings, shuddering, feeling a lack of warmth beside him. He felt around for Blaine, knowing he wasn't there but trying anyway.

"Blaine?" He squeaked, so scared and dazed from the onslaught of nightmares. He wanted to be held, he wanted to know he wasn't alone. "B-Blaine?" He slowly got out of bed, reaching for his robe, fumbling to put it on, sobs strangled and quiet.

He gripped the wall and the rail, listening for noise in the bathroom and only getting the low sounds of his father and Finn snoring. He gripped the rail and slowly worked down the stairs, trying to breathe and work past the lump in his throat to say his name. "Blaine, where are you?"

His voice was too soft, too choked to carry through the house, and the silence that met him reflected that. He finally reached the bottom of the stairs on wobbly legs, still not sensing another presence, so scared. He was lightheaded, trembling, his breathing verging on hyperventilating.

_What if he left? What if he left you? Isn't that what you always knew would happen? _ He shook his head, biting back another sob, scared and frustrated. _No one wants a boyfriend that can't see them, remember? No one wants you._

He supported himself against the back of the couch, trying to get a handle on himself, confused.

The front door creaked and he jumped, turning toward it, the soft hint of fresh cigarette smoke clinging to soft linen floating on the cold breeze that followed. He gasped aloud, shaking where he stood.

"Kurt?" Blaine said, stepping into the living room and going to him instantly. Kurt nearly collapsed hearing his voice, falling into his arms and clutching at him. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? What's the matter?" He held him gingerly, being sure it was alright, rocking slowly. "Baby, I just went out to smoke, what-? Kurt, god, you're shaking like a leaf, baby, it's alright."

"I-I had dreams and he- I was- and you weren't there, I got- Blaine…" His skin burned where he'd been touched, hyperaware of the bruises and scratches wracking his tortured body. He shut his eyes, shaking a little, breathing in Blaine's familiar smell of smoke, gum and linen with the underlying hint of _him_. He felt safe here. Home. He felt home. "Blaine, help me," he whispered.

"Okay, okay, baby. I'm here. You wanna go back to sleep?" He whispered, still wary as to where he could touch him without frightening him. Kurt shook his head.

"No. No, I can't sleep, I can't have another one of those dreams, Blaine, I can't," he whimpered.

"What do you want me to do, baby?" He asked, helpless again. Kurt shook his head, offering a half-shrug, lost.

"I don't know," he whimpered, lips shaking. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"No, no, baby, it's okay. Don't apologize. Whatever you need, Kurt. I'll stand right here holding you until the day I die if that's what you want," he whispered.

"You're sweet," he sniffed. "Wish you'd let other people see it."

"But then there'd be less for you," he teased, trying so hard to make him smile. It worked, briefly.

"W-we can lie down, but I don't want to sleep," he whispered, pleading.

"Okay, okay," he nodded, hating every second of this. Kurt was in so much pain and there was nothing he could do to make it go away, to help him.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said suddenly, still so frustrated. "I'm not being strong about this. I keep crying and-"

"Listen to me," he whispered, brushing his hair back. "How many nights did you spend with me after I got out of the hospital? How many days did you hold my hand and tell me everything was okay? You wiped so many tears, gave me so much patience no matter how angry I was or how hard I was crying. You were there every second, Kurt. You saved my life, and not for the first time. You saved me from myself and my dad. This, right here, holding you, letting you cry, hell, I'll let you hit me if you want," he lifted his chin, kissing his forehead. "And it will never make up for everything you've done for me." Kurt hiccupped, leaning into his neck, clinging to him. "You're so strong Kurt, you're the strongest man I've ever met. But please, baby, _please_ let me help you for once, okay? You can trust me, Kurt. You can lean on me all you and I will help you with whatever you need. With anything you need, baby."

Kurt leaned his face into his neck, breathing shaking a bit. "Thank you." Blaine kissed his forehead, leaning against him. "I love you."

"I love you too." He rocked him slowly, kissing his forehead.

"C-can we go upstairs?" Kurt asked tearfully. Blaine sniffed, heart wrapped in a vice that only got tighter.

"Yeah," he whispered, kissing his cheek. Kurt took his hand, linking his fingers in his and taking him upstairs.

They got back into bed, Kurt's forehead pressed against Blaine's cheek, tangled in his arms. "I'm right here, Kurt. I've got you."

Kurt stayed where he was, safe. Blaine nuzzled his face against his from time to time, the scratch of his stubble somehow soothing. He kissed his temple, sitting in silence, smoothing Kurt's thick hair.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Blaine assured. "It'll go away soon. I promise it'll go away soon."

He wasn't so sure. In fact, he didn't know if this feeling would ever go away.

"Hey, did I ever tell you about the time Wes and David dared me to T.P. thirty houses in two hours?" Blaine asked. Kurt shook his head, giving a small smile. "Okay, so it's Halloween, right? And I'm…"

Blaine talked, rubbing small circles on his back, and didn't stop until Kurt was sound asleep, despite what he'd said earlier, so peaceful and beautiful. He kept his voice soft and low, talking about something unrelated to keep those thoughts away so he could sleep, so he could have a moment's peace. He kept his fingers laced in his, waiting until his breathing relaxed to stop speaking, relieved.

He watched his face, heart throbbing, tears in his eyes. How could someone hurt him? How could someone harm this face, see him cry with fear behind eyes veiled in enigmatic black? How in God's name could someone watch tears fall from those eyes and hear his voice quake with tears pleading and begging for mercy and still hurt him?

He swallowed past the long-since growing lump in his throat, looking down at his sleeping face. _God, Kurt, why you? There's so many people in the world that deserve to hurt the way you are, but not you. _

He fought to sleep. Every time he shut his eyes he saw Kurt pressed against the cold tile, shirt roped tatters around his lower back and his elbows, claw marks on his skin and tears on his cheeks. He saw monstrous hands pillaging his body that had only been touched by him until that point. That awful feeling continued to gnaw at his stomach, knowing how much Kurt _felt_, how much he relied on touch and it was used against him. He opened his eyes, kissing Kurt's forehead.

"I love you," he whispered. "And I'll be right here for you, darling. I promise."

* * *

><p>Blaine woke the next morning alone. The faint smell of Kurt's moisturizer hung in the air, signaling he'd left some time ago. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes and grabbing his jacket. He dug his cigarettes from his pocket, padding down the stairs and yawning. "Kurt?" He said, getting to the first floor. A Christmas tree had sprung up in the living room, boxes spilling tinsel and wrapping paper littering the furniture while Carole and Finn rifled through it.<p>

"Morning, sweetheart," she said, sympathy in her eyes.

"Where's Kurt?" He said sleepily. She frowned.

"He isn't in his room?" She said, standing. Finn turned. Blaine shook his head.

"No, I haven't seen him. I thought…"

He bolted back upstairs, snatching up his phone and hastily dialing Kurt's number.

"_Call from Blaine,_" an automated voice sounded from across the room.

"Fuck!" He spat, going to his closet next, seeing an outfit missing. His cane was gone too. He rushed back downstairs, tugging on his shoes. "His phone's here and his cane's gone. He must've left before we got up."

"The last time Burt saw him he was asleep with you," Carole said, a phone pressed to her ear. Finn was texting like a madman, talking to everyone he knew, updating Facebook and Twitter for good measure, praying someone had seen him; anyone.

"I'm gonna go find him," Blaine said, more afraid than he'd ever admit. "I'll find him."

He burst through the front door, looking around the snow-blanketed neighborhood as if he'd be right there in the front yard.

The footprints leading from the front door –two sets, one Burt's, on his— stopped at the salted sidewalk, giving no clues. He sighed, exasperated, and started running.

"KURT!"


	25. Under a Blanket

25

**Under a Blanket**

Blaine ran, and ran, and ran, constantly searching and yelling. "KURT!" Strangers eyed him warily, and he didn't blame them. A mussed, pierced boy dressed in day-old ripped jeans, boots and a studded leather jacket was enough to send them to the other side of the street already. He was actually surprised the police hadn't been called yet. "Damn it, baby, where are you?"

Kurt hated the snow, he'd told him that at the beginning of the week when flurries had started to dance around the courtyard.

"It muffles _everything_," he said. "It's like a silencer for the world. The house gets quiet, like putting a pillow over your head and hiding under a blanket."

He was scared, much more afraid than he'd been in some time. Where would he go? Why wouldn't he just tell someone where he went? In the back of his mind he wondered if he'd be this worried if Kurt could see. But the last time he overestimated his abilities and underestimated the cruelty in the world this awful thing had happened to him. The thing that had made him so rash.

_Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt._

He kept his eyes wide for a pea coat and his cane, for thick brown hair and porcelain skin, ears willing to hear the sweet bell that was his voice.

He finally stopped running, catching his breath, exasperated and confused. "Damn it, Kurt…" He stared around, raking his fingers through his curls.

Then there he was. Right in front of him. He bolted across the street, almost getting flattened by an SUV in the process, but he didn't care. "Kurt!"

* * *

><p>Kurt sat with his knees in the snow, freezing all over but too tired and too weary to care. He sniffed, hot tears working down his cheeks, his chest tight and heavy. His jeans were soaked through, as well as his shoes. His hands were as numb as his face, but he honestly didn't care at this point.<p>

He touched the stone in front of him, hands trembling. He sniffed, head bowed and crying, his skin searing in places. The warmth slowly seeped from his skin, numbing the legs beneath his wet jeans and his fingerprints soaked in snow. He coughed softly, uncurling his fingers from his cane with pained effort. Hot tears streaked down his cheeks, feeling so empty, so numb and hurt.

"Kurt!" He didn't move. The hurried crunching in the snow told him how long he'd really been here. He'd meant to get back before Blaine or anyone noticed he was gone. Sweet Blaine, always so good to him. He sounded so scared, too. "Kurt, baby, what the hell are you doing out here? You'll freeze!" He knelt beside him, the heat radiating from him to Kurt, who still hadn't moved. "Baby, what are you doing here, huh?"

"I'm scared," he shuddered. "I'm scared, I feel like the whole world is going to swallow me whole in this stupid dark that I live in…" He shut his eyes, both hands on the concrete slab in front of him. "I missed my mom…" His voice cracked, tracing specific letters: M-O-T-H-E-R. "I want my mom, Blaine." He buried his face in his hands, sobbing aloud. "I want my mohom!"

Blaine ripped off his jacket, draping it around Kurt's shoulders, tears in his own eyes. "It's okay, it's okay, baby."

"How?" He croaked. "How is it okay, Blaine? Tell me exactly how it's okay. The blind kid that you're dating for god knows why is so fucked up he had to come to a cemetery to…_fuck_, I just want my mom." Gingerly, Blaine reached out and put his hand on Kurt's shoulder. He tensed away, too angry to want to be touched. When he spoke again, it wasn't to Blaine but rather to himself or something beyond that. "Take my eyes, let me get beat, let me get harassed and ignored, let me get molested, but did you have to take my mom from me?" He sniffed, shaking his head. "But it's okay. I have Blaine. That's the trade-off, I get Blaine."

Blaine watching him with overwhelming pain in his chest that threatened to cave it. His eyes watered against his will, sniffing and blaming it on the cold rather than tears. "Kurt," he said softly. "You'll freeze to death if you stay here. Let's go home. Carole's putting the tree up," he offered, trying to brighten his miserable expression. Kurt nodded, still not letting go of his mother's gravestone.

The dark-haired boy jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up at Burt who'd seemingly come from nowhere. "I knew where he was before Carole told me he was gone," he said softly. He stepped closer to his child, a blisteringly hot hand over his to gain his attention. "Come on, buddy, let's get out of the cold." The father stared at the headstone his son was clinging to for dear life, pain in his eyes and a lump in his throat.

Burt knelt down beside him, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders he didn't shy away from, too tired to at this point. "I miss her too," he whispered. "And she helped you out for as long as she could. But you gotta let the rest of us help, buddy. We can help too. We can make the hurt go away just like she did. Me, Blaine, Carole, Finn, all the glee kids, you've got an army of people ready to help with what you need." He touched his chin, turning his face to get his snow dampened hair from his face. "You gotta trust us, Kurt."

"I miss her," he croaked. Burt nodded.

"I know. I know, buddy. I miss her too. Come on."

Kurt stood sluggishly, his legs igniting with sharp pins and prickling as soon as he did. He reached out and stroked Blaine's cheek as he passed, fingers freezing, but Blaine didn't care.

He stayed where he was for a moment, alone with the grave while Burt and Kurt went back to the car. He took a breath before speaking softly. "Hi, um…nice to meet you, Mrs. Hummel, uh… I know that you took really good care of him when you were here, and Bur- Mr. Hummel did as soon as you left and you guys did a really good job being there for him and-and keeping him safe. I haven't done a very good job with that so far. And I'm so sorry that I let him get hurt, I would never…"

He stopped, determined, pursing his lips. "But I'm trying, and I'm gonna keep trying to help. He's stubborn, really stubborn and he'll want to do it on his own but I don't think he can this time. I'm gonna try and give him the level of comfort and love that you guys do- did, sorry. I love him so much, more than anything else in this whole world. I'm gonna do what I think you'd want, what he needs and hopefully I'll be good enough for something for once." He stood, gingerly putting his hand on top of the headstone. "I'm not what your son deserves. He deserves much better than what I can give him, but I'll try. For your sake and his I'll do whatever it takes." He offered a small smile, taking his hand away. "It was nice to meet you."

"Blaine, let's go!" Burt called over the snow. He turned, finding Kurt was only a few yards away. He wasn't sure if he'd heard him or not, but the tight embrace that met him when he got close enough brought tears to his eyes.


	26. Turn Off the Dark

26

**Turn Off the Dark**

Kurt said nothing the rest of the day. He sat on the end of the couch, touching the branches of the Christmas tree, a tiny ornament hidden away in his free hand. Blaine sat across from him, watching him, trying to be engaged in the decorating, appreciating what Finn, Burt and Carole were trying to do, but…but watching Kurt's eyes… His eyes were so far away. They were filled with tears constantly, nose pinked. Every now and again he'd squeeze the ornament, his lips would shake and he'd take a long breath and he'd hold it for such a long time until he had to let it out.

And still Blaine watched, ready to jump if Kurt needed him.

"You sure you don't wanna put up some ornaments, sweetie?" Carole said, her heartache obvious behind her smile. He smiled at her, or did what he could to smile through his gut-wrenching sadness.

"No thank you. Not really the greatest idea to let the blind kid decorate a tree," he chuckled ruefully. He shifted his grip on the figure in his palm again, voice coming out in a strained whisper. "I'd like to put this one up when you're all finished. Just this one." He swallowed, head drooping down to his hands, letting the carols playing softly fill the room again.

Burt gave her a nod to carry on. Kurt didn't care for that kind of attention, didn't want the room focused on him and his problems.

Blaine fought with everything he had not to scoop Kurt into his arms and hold and kiss him until it all went away. He wished with everything he had that a touch could do that. He wondered how things would have been if him and his mother would have never been in that crash. If Kurt and his mother were here with Burt, smiling and laughing. Kurt would be able to see the lights and the tree, know how his father has aged, how good he looked…how utterly beautiful he was, he'd be able to see that. And with his mother that Kurt had told him stories about, a sweet, beautiful woman kinder than anyone else he'd met…he'd be so happy.

Carole and Finn wouldn't be there. Carole wouldn't be able to be this happy with Burt. Finn wouldn't have a dad. As for him…he'd be dead now if not for this angel. But he'd be okay with that. He could give that up if Kurt got to be happy. He sighed softly, knowing that wishing wouldn't help him, nothing would.

Without saying a word, not one word, Kurt reached across the couch, taking Blaine's hand in his own, as if he'd heard his thoughts, or sensed his discomfort. Blaine looked at him, at the small smile he offered him. Still trying to keep him at ease when he was in pain. He squeezed his hand back before standing, fingers still laced together. "I'm gonna get something to drink. You want anything?" He asked. Kurt shook his head, still so miserable.

"No, I'm okay." Another false smile. No sparkle or glimpse of happiness behind his eyes. It nearly broke him.

"Okay, baby." He kissed his forehead before stepping out. He got around the corner, out of sight at the foot of the stairs and gripped the rail, suddenly overcome with emotions he'd been keeping secret. His eyes pinched closed, lips folded, tears streaking down his cheeks. His body shook with silent sobs, gripping the rail so hard it hurt his hands. He sniffed, not hearing Burt step in behind him.

The older man gently turned him around, prying his fingers from the wood, and hugged him close. Blaine buried his face in his shirt, crying hard, still quiet so Kurt wouldn't hear.

"I-I-" He stammered. Burt shook his head.

"Don't have to tell me. Just let it out, pal."

* * *

><p>Kurt smiled his goodnights at everyone, his mind too dazed and worked up to grant him sleep. Burt patted his cheek, Carole his shoulder. Finn hollered a goodnight halfway up the stairs and Blaine…<p>

Blaine stayed up as late as his body would allow before he stood. "Goodnight, baby," he said softly, watching his face for some sort of cue. Kurt smiled gently at him, reaching out to him with his free hand. Blaine took it graciously, bending to wrap his arms around him. Kurt hugged him back, resting his cheek against his shoulder. "Please, try to get some sleep."

"I will," he breathed. "Just something I have to do first. Alone." Blaine nodded his understanding, holding his face for a moment.

"Kurt…Kurt, do you feel _any_ better?"

"I will be. Don't worry about me so much," he whispered. Blaine shook his head, chuckling ruefully.

"That's just it, honey, I have to worry about you." He placed a soft kiss to his forehead, stroking his cheek before stepping away.

Kurt took a slow breath when he was alone. He opened the hand holding the ornament, running his fingers over it, tracing it.

In the few pictures he had left in his mind, he saw the figure's faces: A mother with wings holding her child, the words "Baby's First Christmas" etched into the bottom her white dress. He saw the curls of her hair, the point of her face.

"What's wrong with you?" He hissed to himself. "What's the matter with you? She's gone. She's been gone. She can't help you." He sniffed, standing with it. He carefully put it on the tree, feeling for other ornaments around it before putting it into place. He took a breath, falling back on the couch. He let his head fall back, breathing slowly.

"_NO! NOHOH, PLEASE, PLEASE!" _

"_You shut the fuck up right now, bitch. I'll fucking kill you." _

He shook his head, breath trembling. White hot echoes decorated his body, sending shivers down his spine. He chewed his lip, anger welling in his stomach.

_Why? Why did he do that to me? WHAT THE FUCK GAVE HIM THE RIGHT TO TOUCH ME? BECAUSE I'M GAY? BECAUSE HE IS AND I'M THE ONLY ONE AROUND TO TAKE IT OUT ON? WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!_

He slammed his fist into the cushion before raking his hand over his face. "God damn it!" He spat. He didn't know what to do. He felt alone, ugly and stupid for everything. Blaine didn't need this from him. Blaine didn't need to worry about his mental issues. It's not like he actually…

He went up the stairs, not tired in the slightest, but needing something to keep him busy.

By the time he got to his room he still had no idea what to do with himself. He sighed, plopping onto the floor, tugging out a trunk from under his bed and flipping it open. He dug through the fabrics, knowing how badly they needed to be organized and started in on them.

However long he spent there he didn't know. He arranged the piles by size and texture, thinking venomously, _Not like you can sort them by color, can you?_

"Kurt?" A drowsy voice said from the doorway. "Babe, what are you doin' up so late?"

"I'm not tired," he said shortly, still busy. "Go to bed, Blaine."

"Kurt-"

"Go," he demanded. He came into the room instead, sitting down across from him.

"Kurt, this isn't going to get better if you keep it all in or take out your anger on sorting swatches," he said gently.

"Seems to be working at the moment," his voice was flat. "Now leave me alone. Go away."

"No," he said firmly. "Not until you talk about this. Talk about something. Your dad's worried sick-"

"Just because I can't see him doesn't mean I don't fucking know that!" Blaine straightened up, staring at him. "Get out of my room, Blaine."

"No."

He slammed the fabric down, eyes fiery. "Get out, Blaine."

"You don't want me to leave," he said. "I know you really don't."

"Then why am I telling you to?" He snarled. "Get the fuck out of my room."

"I'm not going anywhere, god damn it!" He took his hands, forcing him away from his work, making him listen for a moment. "Now listen to me, Kurt, let me help. Let me _in_."

Kurt jerked away from him, standing. "What are you gonna tell me, Blaine?" He whispered harshly. "You gonna tell me that it wasn't my fault? You gonna tell me that I shouldn't feel so stupid? That I shouldn't be angry with myself and David? That I shouldn't want to claw my own face off after I hurt him too? You gonna tell me that I shouldn't be scared every time I turn around because you're here to protect me?" His hands were balled into fists, cheeks hot.

"I can be whatever you need me to be, Kurt," he said truthfully, firm but vulnerable at the same time.

"I want you to leave me alone!"

"That is the one thing I can't do. You and I both know what'll happen if I let you handle this by yourself."

"You don't know me, Blaine!" He spat. "How long have we known each other? Huh? You don't know anything about me. Not nearly as much as you think you do. Get out of my room and leave me alone. If I wanted your help I would have asked for it!"

"You're pushing me away because you're scared," Blaine said quietly. "I know you're scared because your left eye twitches and you have to push your voice out to make any noise. I know you're mad at me too, 'cause your lips get tight and you jut your jaw out." He took a step toward him. "I know you sit and imagine yourself singing every song on your iPod because you know how big of a star you are. I know you dance in the shower. I know it makes you so mad sometimes that you can't see the clothes you're wearing because they just might not be as perfect as you want them to be. I know you're sensitive about your complexion and your weight because of a comment Coach Sylvester made last year. I know your favorite color is lavender. I know you secretly love _The Titanic_ even though you give it so much flak. I know you hate anything lemon flavored. You stick your tongue out when you concentrate, you're spiteful when you're angry and when you fight, you fight to hurt."

He took a breath, holding Kurt's elbows in his hands. "You worry about being sad or upset around your dad because you don't want him to hurt because you are. You don't want him to worry because you're concerned about his heart. No matter what you're doing or what you want you will always do what's best for him. When you love, you love with everything you have. You have the kindest heart and you won't admit to it because you think you're too angry to be a good person.

"I know you won't drink tea in the morning. I know you don't like doughnuts or apple juice. When you're flirting your dimples show when you smile. I know you only wear sweats when you're sad." He looked down at the sweats on his waist. "I know you're pushing me away because you don't know what you'll do if you open up to me, and not being in control terrifies you. I know you just want to crawl in bed and cry yourself to sleep without me seeing or hearing because you think you're an ugly crier and you're being a baby about this." He gently touched his cheek.

"I know you, Kurt. And I know that if I let you cry yourself to sleep, if I let you sit and stew about this, if I let you make me mad and push me away that you'll regret it for the rest of your life. You know how I know that?" Kurt shook his head. "Because doing what you're doing, getting mad, wanting to hit things and scream at people to leave you alone so they'll forget how much pain you're in, because that's exactly what I did to get this way."

Kurt's lips trembled, tears streaking down his cheeks, his own hands clenching Blaine's shirt. "It is?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "I _know_ you, Kurt. And I know what it looks like when someone hates themselves and they're trying to destroy themselves from the inside out. Let me help you like you helped me, baby."

Kurt leaned into Blaine's touch, kissing his open palm, breath shaking. He gently held Blaine's neck, pulling him closer, kissing him deeply. Blaine caught his lips, his arms snaking around his waist, just holding him in a protective embrace. "I love you."

"I love you too," Kurt whispered. "And I'm gonna be okay. Eventually."

"I know you will."


	27. Tree Lighting

27

**Tree Lighting**

"Stop it!" Kurt giggled, shying away from Blaine as he pecked kisses up and down his neck. "Stop it, the cookies are gonna burn."

"Who needs cookies? You taste better than cookies," Blaine mumbled, lips against his skin, desperate to make him laugh again. He hadn't seen Kurt smile like this in _weeks_, or laugh, or allow Blaine to be this close for this long.

"You're going to have to be the one to explain to my dad why his cookies are ruined," he advised, chewing his lip, holding Blaine's hands while he hugged him around his middle. Blaine sighed, hanging his head and drooping, disappointed.

"Alright, alright, I'll get the cookies," he grumbled. "But don't move, don't go anywhere, okay?" Kurt chuckled.

"Okay," he held up his hands in mock surrender, leaning against the counter while Blaine removed the tray from the oven and replaced it with the next batch. He smirked, a surprised little yelp coming from his throat when Blaine slid back over to him, catching him in his arms and pressing their foreheads together.

"So, where were we?" He mumbled, voice low. Kurt giggled again.

"You are going to be the death of me," he breathed, allowing Blaine to hold and kiss him, distract him. Blaine needed it, hell, _he _needed it. He still wouldn't move in with his brother, not until he was one-hundred percent sure that Kurt was completely okay. Kurt was smiling, flirting and laughing, yes. But…but there was still times, still glimpses of what was really going on behind his sightless eyes, things he'd trained himself to hide.

A few times Blaine had woke to a sudden presence climbing into bed with him, wrapping arms around him and snuggling close with damp cheeks and tears still clinging to his lashes, not saying a word or asking for anything other than a warm embrace. He held him without protest, kissed his hair and stroked his cheeks, tried to remind him that no one would ever touch him like that again. Kurt would only hug him tighter and bury his face in his neck and sleep. Some nights he didn't.

"You know, Santa won't come if you're awake," Blaine had mumbled the night before. Kurt chuckled.

"Put me on the naughty list, then," he challenged, snuggling closer to him.

"Are you okay?" Blaine whispered, stroking his cheek, hesitant with his touches unless he was sure Kurt was comfortable with them.

"I'll be fine," he assured, getting under the blankets with him, knowing his father wouldn't approve, but hey, it's Christmas, right?

"Is there something I can do?" He asked, just to see if something could be done. Kurt shook his head.

"Goodnight, Blaine," he breathed, eyes closed. Blaine gently rubbed his back, helpless.

"Goodnight."

Kurt was better in the morning, traipsing around the kitchen, bopping happily to Christmas music and touching the gum-wrapper ring Blaine had made for him every so often, smiling when he did. It wasn't much, but damn it if he didn't feel like it was the most amazing present he'd ever gotten. After explaining to his father at least eight times that it wasn't an engagement ring, of course.

Blaine while Kurt mixed and tasted, marveling at the ease in which he moved and how amazing everything tasted.

"Blaine Devon Anderson, you eat one more spoonful of my icing and you're not getting a single snickerdoodle, got it?" Kurt said suddenly, Blaine mid-lick. He guiltily set the spoon in the sink, eyeing him slyly.

"Now, how did you know-"

"Blind, not stupid. You were being way too quiet," he said, shooting him a smile over his shoulder. "Now actually put the icing on the cookies instead of in your mouth."

"Yes, sir," Blaine grinned. No one, not one person on planet earth could make Blaine stop doing something with just words. If Blaine Anderson wanted something done, he did it, laws, parents and other people be damned. He'd told teachers to fuck off so he could take a nap, told police officers to suck something south of his belt while he continued to graffiti a bridge, spit in his father's face when he told him to stop listening to Queen.

But for the beautiful, ungodly sweet and patient boy across the kitchen, and for him alone, Blaine would listen. Blaine would move mountains at his command, jump off a cliff if that's what made him happy. If Kurt told him to jump and hand him a star Blaine would jump for the rest of his life until he had one. Never in his life had anyone ever, _ever_ made him feel this way. He'd never dreamed of complying with something like this, something so small.

_Great, now I have a weakness,_ he thought with a smile.

_You knew he was your weakness the second you saw him walking down the street._

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, turning, dusted with flour from nose to fingertips, still smiling beautifully. "Everything alright?"

He grinned. "It's perfect."

"Blaine?" Carole said, poking her head around the corner. "There's someone here to see you. He says he's your brother. I wanted to be sure before I let him in."

"Young guy, blue eyes, tried to hit on you to get his way in?" He asked. Kurt giggled. Carole nodded, blushing, smiling meekly.

"Yeah, that's Coop." He stepped out toward the front door, patting Kurt's shoulder as he went, finding his big brother smiling on the porch.

"Merry Christmas, squirt!" He exclaimed, arms open. Blaine allowed the hug, returning the embrace with a smile.

"Here," he said, handing him a package he'd snagged on the way out. "Carole knitted you a scarf. I told her the colors to use, so I got to say it's from me." Cooper beamed.

"Always resourceful, eh?" He said, handing him an envelope. "I figured you could use it to buy cigarettes or something else that might not kill you." Blaine smiled.

"I'm quitting, actually," he said proudly. Cooper smiled.

"Kurt get tired of the smell?" He mused.

"The cough," he corrected, chuckling. "Nicorette's a pain in the ass, but I promised him I'd stop. He's threatened not to kiss me, it's a nightmare." The elder brother's smile faltered, snow falling silently around them, utter silence blanketing the moment for a beat before he spoke, Blaine's own grin furrowed to worry in his brow.

"I don't want to bring this up, you know I don't," Cooper began, imploring Blaine, holding his hands out as if he feared Blaine would run. "But…do you know when you're gonna be able to move in with me? I know you don't want to leave Kurt, I know that, and I'm not pushing, I just-"

"No, it's fine, I get it," Blaine assured, nodding, lips folded. "I can't leave him, Cooper, I can't. He…he needs me, but if I told him you wanted me there he'd shove me out the door and pack my bags himself. He's…he's stubbornly selfless like that. But I know how bad he needs me here and I can't leave him yet."

"You know –again, not pushing, just offering- Kurt is more than welcome at my place, believe me. Hell, you could bring him with you for all I care. But you not being in my sight at least once a day drives me nuts, kiddo. It scares me to death sometimes wondering if Dad made bail, or if he managed his way out on some technicality and I can't walk into your room at night and know exactly where you are. I'm sure the Hummels are doing great keeping you safe, and I certainly don't want to run into Burt Hummel trying to get to you but…I don't know, bud, I'd just feel better with you close." He swallowed, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling again. "But I'm not gonna push or force your hand when the kid that turned your life around needs you. Take your time, I totally understand."

Blaine smiled again, nodding. "Thank you, Cooper. I promise it'll be soon. And you can call me whenever you want, even if it's three in the morning. It's okay." Cooper nodded, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"I sound like an overprotective mom," he chortled. Blaine shrugged.

"Better than one that won't protect you from anything," he mumbled, flashing a half-smile. Cooper hugged him out of reflex, eyes shut.

"So you'll call me, right?" He repeated, forcing himself to let go. Blaine nodded, smile reaching his eyes this time.

"Yeah, definitely. Soon as everything's alright."

"Hey there," Kurt said brightly, stepping out with an overstuffed Tupperware box in his hands. "Thought I'd offer you some of the goodies instead of making you smell my genius." Cooper laughed, taking the tin graciously.

"Thank you so much. Gives me something to stuff myself on later," he said happily. Kurt popped a hand to his hip, eyebrow arched.

"Oh, you're staying for dinner," he said slyly. Blaine grinned. "I made way too many mashed potatoes and if there isn't one more person at the table we'll be eating turkey for three weeks straight."

"Finn's gonna be crushed," Blaine chuckled.

"I don't want to impose," Cooper warned.

"_I insist!" _Carole called from inside. They nearly fell over laughing.

* * *

><p>"Blaine," Kurt said softly, voice soft in the semi-darkness, faces illuminated by the fire in front of them. "You know you can move in with Cooper whenever you want." He said, the house nearly silent with guests gone and asleep.<p>

Blaine sighed, hating that his hunch had been correct. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Still," he implored. "I'll survive without you being down the hall every night." Blaine winced, taking notice of the edge of pain in his voice.

"You know, you're not the only one who can hear when someone's lying," he said gently. Kurt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, frustrated.

"It's not supposed to be like this," he hissed. "I'm supposed to look at you, see what color your clothes are; when you look into my eyes, I'm supposed to be able to look back."

"I told you, it doesn't bother me," Blaine implored, squeezing him.

"I used to think about it when I was a kid. About what it would be like to fall in love and be with that person every day, to spend countless nights looking at each other, looking up at the stars, not stuck in the dark where I dragged you with me," he shut his eyes. "I was okay with being blind until I met you…until I understood completely that my dream would never come true."

"Kurt…"

"That and then this…this _bullshit_-! Why can't anything go the way it's supposed to? Why don't I get to love like they do in the movies?!"

"This is better than movies, this is _real_," he emphasized, holding his cheeks. "You see inside of me, not what my face look like. You love me based on anything but that. You think I'm attractive because of who I am; I've never had that before, I've told you that."

"I know, I know," he sighed, his voice aged beyond his years. "It's just…it's not something you need to deal with."

"And you needed to deal with this shit with my dad?" He retorted.

"That's different."

Blaine sat up, pressing his forehead to Kurt's, his own eyes shut. "Give me your hands," he whispered, taking them carefully. He placed them on his cheeks, holding Kurt's face in his own. "You feel that?" He asked. Kurt's senses focused. Raspberry hair-gel, Hollister-purchased cologne, detergent, leather. Rough stubble, piercing in his eyebrow and his ears, curls circling his fingertips, gentle thrum of his pulse beneath the heel of his palm, gentle gusts of his breathing.

"Yes," he whispered.

"How about this?" Blaine carefully leaned forward, kissing him so carefully, as if Kurt were something precious and delicate, or easily frightened. Lights popped and exploded in Kurt's universe, causing his breath to stutter and mind to melt, surrounded completely in _Blaine_.

"Y-yes."

Blaine smiled against his cheek, watching a grin spread to Kurt's pinked cheeks as well. "Isn't that better than just looking at me?"

He wrapped his arms around him tightly, still haunted, but wanting. Blaine held him with no hesitation as usual, stagnant tears he didn't understand settling in his eyes. "Thank you," Kurt sniffed, absorbing him.

"Anytime, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Blaine."

"Merry Christmas."

The warmth of the fire lulled them to sleep in time, and when Burt came down the next morning for coffee, they were still holding each other just as fiercely as they had hours before.

He sighed, looking at the pair, wondering just how his son would fare when school resumed in just a few days.

The thought made his stomach churn.


	28. The Light is Fading

28

**The Light is Fading**

"If you need something, anything, just text me okay?" Blaine said, standing beside Kurt at his locker.

"I'll be fine," he nodded, heart hammering in his chest and praying Blaine didn't notice. He piled his things into his bag, not looking forward to the moment the bell rang and Blaine had to leave him. "And if I need you I'll tell you."

"Kurt, baby," Blaine said gently, a hand on his shoulder. He took a breath, swallowing. The bell sounded, cutting off his words. Kurt winced, leaning over to give his cheek a soft peck.

"I'll see you in Glee club, sweetheart," he said quietly, hand on the wall as he walked down the hallway.

Blaine watched him leave, pained, wishing he could do something to make this easier. But Kurt was….was Kurt. He shook his head, slamming his fist against the lockers, frustrated with himself and the situation. "Son of a bitch."

He looked up again, watching him turn into his classroom, eyes of nearly everyone in the hall trained on him, whispers, murmurs and gossip spreading rapidly. Fire ignited and boiled in his stomach, rage spilling over before he had time to really acknowledge it.

He spun around, going to his own classroom before he took someone's head off instead.

* * *

><p>He didn't go to class. Managed to get around it all day. He spent the majority of his time beating a punching bag within an inch of its life, letting anger seep from his mind and into his fists, driving hard over and over again.<p>

Blaine had shown him how to do this awhile back, after he'd stopped his incessant crying and actually decided to do something about his predicament rather than be some victim. He taught him how to punch, how to put as much power into each swing as he could while still saving energy for more.

Where all this energy was coming from he didn't know, but it hadn't ebbed, not much anyway, and he'd been going at it for hours. He thought of how he'd been touched without consent, how the doctors had wondered if he was truly being assaulted or not because of his orientation, of how they'd almost taken Blaine to jail after saving him, how Rachel goaded and prodded him to talk about it, to think about it, to try and tell him she understood. How could she? How could she possibly know what that was like?

She'd never been like this, never felt like this and saying that she understood just made him want to hit her. Or walk away. Which he had. He asked to be excused from his history class, away from Rachel and away from eyes that were no doubt judging him, rumors having been slung through the Facebook grapevine and left to stew all through winter break.

He came here, just a few yards away from where he'd been assaulted to begin with. He wasn't sure why, what could have possibly possessed him to come to that place. He'd found the corner he'd been forced into, hearing his own words and David's echo, the phantoms of pain and fear slipped through his bones, reminding him of every second.

And he got angry. He'd practically screamed and sought out this abused bag, and he hadn't stopped since. He remained in his T-shirt, other layers tossed away onto the bench close by, drenched in sweat and not caring for the first time in his existence.

He didn't know how much time passed, how many times he'd fallen against the swaying sack to catch his breath or wiped away angry tears with such self-loathing, how much water he'd gulped down to keep himself from passing out, but no matter how angry he was, he still jumped when someone spoke.

"Kurt?" He spun around, bruised, raw, aching hands still clenched. "Easy, cowboy, it's okay," Coach Bieste said, stepping out of her office. "You okay, kiddo?" He shook his head, wiping his face.

"No," he mumbled. "No, I'm not. I thought it might be okay now that it's been awhile and I'm back at school but I'm not." She nodded, leaning against the wall beside him.

"Well Mr. Schuester's been looking for you. Blaine too. Finally e-mailed me askin' if I knew where you were," she explained.

"Oh my god, glee club," he groaned, hastily going for his things.

"Hey, it's alright," Shannon eased, tone allowing him to slow. "He just asked me to tell you to meet him in the auditorium. Says he might know something that'll make you feel better."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue, I-"<p>

"It's okay," he assured. "Just had us worried, that's all."

Kurt listened, sensing no other forms of life in the room with them. He frowned. "Where is everyone?"

"Choir room," he said, "practicing our new number for regionals."

"Shouldn't I be there with them?" He asked, guilty, weary.

"I think there's something you should do first, just as a suggestion." The teacher walked out onto the stage with him, standing dead center, lights dimmed so as not to hurt his eyes. Kurt heard them humming away, some of their warmth reaching his face. "Just sing, Kurt. Whatever you want, as loud as you want, for as long as you want. The place is yours, okay? Sing 'til practice is over, don't sing at all, it's all fine. But I think it might help you feel better." He gently patted the student's shoulder, stepping out quietly.

Kurt waited until the steps were gone and the only sound left the lights and the whirring of the vents. He sighed, slowly going to his knees, just sitting in the stillness for some time. He shut his eyes, hot tears welling in them, lips parting. And he sang.

"_There was a time when men were kind. When their voices were soft. And their words inviting," _he sniffed, thinking of how he saw before it happened, how Blaine would make him smile and his heart pound. _"There was a time when love was blind. And the world was a song. And the song was exciting." _He swallowed. "_There was a time. But then it all went wrong."_

A tear streaked down his face.

"_I dreamed a dream in time gone by. When hope was high and life worth living. I dreamed that love, would never die… I dreamed that God would be forgiving._"

He smiled ruefully. _"Then I was young and unafraid. And dreams were meant to be used and wasted. There was no ransom to be paid, no song unsung, no wine untasted." _He bowed his head, hands folded in his lap, begging for something, chest clenching. _"But the tigers come at night. With their voice as soft as thunder. As they tear your world apart…_" His throat clutched. _"As they turn your dreams to shame…"_

He stood, fists clenched, practically screaming the note at the universe. So much so that he didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching him.

"_But there are dreams that cannot be! And there are storms we cannot weather!" _ Tears fell without his consent, breath ragged, just the last bits of his anger and desperation escaping with it. _"I had a dream my life would be…_" All he ever wanted was to be normal, to see sunshine again, his father, flowers. Blaine. _"So different from this hell I'm living! So different now than what it seems!" _He stopped, breathing hard, sniffling and crying. Blaine stepped onto the stage, looking at him. He fell again, sobbing softly. _"Oh. Life has killed the dream. I dreamed…"_

Blaine wiped his eyes, watching Kurt cry, heart absolutely throbbing. He cleared his throat, managing a smile. _"In my life, there are so many questions and answers that somehow seem wrong."_ Kurt looked up, startled by the sudden presence. Blaine continued toward him, watching the smallest smile dawn on Kurt's face._ "In my life, there are times when I catch the silence, the sigh of a faraway song. And it sings of a world I long to see. Just a whisper away out of reach. Waiting for me." _ He got closer, chewing his lip, hoping this was working. _"Does he know I'm alive? Do I know if he's real? Does he see what I saw, does he feel how I feel?" _

Kurt stood now, wiping his cheeks, smiling, singing back verses ahead of him. _"I don't know what to say." _

Blaine took his hands._ "Then make no sound." _

"_I am lost," _he blushed.

"_I am found." _

"_A heart full of love," _he held his face, thumbing over stubble while Blaine took his waist.

"_A heart full of you." _

"_A single look and then I knew." _

"_I knew it too." _

"_From today." _

"_Every day," _Blaine pressed his forehead to his, holding him close he could feel the wetness still clinging to his lashes, heart stuttering while this beautiful creature sang with him.

"_For it is not a dream. Not a dream after all…"_

Kurt barely ducked to meet his lips, scarred, searing heart soothed. Loved.

"For someone that got into three fights at lunch, you don't make a bad Frenchwoman," he teased. Blaine shrugged.

"Walking enigma, I suppose," he said. He watched his face, concerned, and Kurt heard how deep it ran in his tone. "How are you? I know today…today was hard, but…"

"I think I'll be okay," he nodded, a real smile winking back at him. Blaine grinned.

"That's fucking awesome." He kissed him again, deeper this time, hands inside his shirt to touch his skin.

"I'm sweaty and gross," Kurt warned, grimacing. Blaine's grin turned wicked, tongue barely venturing in his lips before he spoke.

"And you look damn good like that," he winked. "And if it's okay with you, I think I'll keep my hands right here for awhile."

Kurt blushed. "Nothing too frisky, we're in school."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" He giggled. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Are we gonna make-out or-?" Blaine cut him off, kissing him under the lights, making him forget everything, showing him there was so much more to him than pain. Showing him what he was worth.

Showing him another way to fight back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More soon! Songs: **"I Dreamed a Dream" and "In My Life/A Heart Full of Love" from Les Miserables. (Cut for relevance)


	29. From the Inside Out

**A/N: **Thank you all so, so much for getting this fic to 1,000 reviews. It means the world to me. You're wonderful and I love you all. Have some sweet love-making as a token of my gratitude!

* * *

><p>29<p>

**From the Inside Out**

They were lying on Kurt's bed, shoes, socks and shirts gone, scattered on the floor. The quiet sounds of the main road several blocks away filtered through the windows, the otherwise silent and empty house giving a small creak now and again. The air was warm; _they _were warm, all limbs and sated comfort, tired but not all at the same time. Their noses brushed, dazed.

Kurt's eyes were closed, his fingertips tracing every line of his face so slowly, so delicately. Blaine stared at him, lips parted, awed. And Kurt felt.

He ran his fingers over each curl, each shape, letting it run from his knuckle to the tip, combing fingers through each one, counting them all in his head. He gently outlined his eyebrows, feeling the piercing stuck in one, the barbell curved toward him, round and warmed by his skin. His eyes came next, his lashes so long. They tickled the pads of his fingers, sensation making him shiver just a little. His eyes were so wide and round, so beautiful. He could feel the crinkles beginning to form from smiles, tears and rage just at the corners. His thumbs smoothed over his forehead, index finger sliding down to the tip of his nose. He followed the curve, the soft roundness of his face that melded into his cheekbones.

He cupped his cheeks, feeling the sharp angle of his jawline, the rough stubble covering it exciting his skin. He traced the shells of his ears, counting three more piercings in his inventory, hating himself for not doing this sooner.

"Kurt…"

He traced his lips then, the plump warmth of his lower lip and gentle slopes of the upper. Fingers carefully moved down to his neck, thumbing his Adam's apple so carefully. He was so soft, so damn warm. His pulse thudded rhythmically in a vein beneath his thumb, his life just…there.

"Blaine, can…" he whispered, unable to see the sheer wonder in Blaine's face while he looked at him. "Can I do this to…to the rest of you?"

"Touch me?" He asked, sound a soft puff of air that held so much more.

Kurt blushed to his ears, but nodded. "Yes…all…all of you."

Blaine met his lips, soft, dry and chaste. "Every inch of me is yours, Kurt. Inside, outside, everything, anything you want." Kurt kissed him again, slightly overwhelmed.

He straddled him between his legs, hearing his breath hitch and being so careful. "You alright?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." Blaine looked at this beautiful creature above him, trusting him with his heart and his body, something he'd never done with another living soul before. Something he never wanted to have to do again. He itched to touch Kurt's skin, to stroke and caress and even tease to watch him writhe and sweat and want. He wanted him splayed out and flushed and screaming and begging, wanted it hard and fast. But this…this was so much better.

It scared him, though, because Kurt was about to take him apart without even realizing it. The intimacy barely begun was going to get so much worse. It might even be overwhelming; he might have to ask him to stop. He simply didn't know.

Achingly slow, the light illuminating every pale inch of Kurt's torso, he leaned forward, the pads of his hypersensitive fingers just barely touching his clavicle, slowly dipping to splay his palms over his shoulders, feeling for each bone, each acre of skin. He moved to his chest then, fingers spread, counting each thrum of his heart and every breath he took. He found the outline of a scar, following it, expression giving over to pain trying to imagine what put it there. Blaine winced but didn't pull away, instinct telling him to, Kurt's tenderness saying it was okay. Everything would be okay.

Kurt's lips were folded, so focused, hands running memorizing and cataloguing each scar and muscle he found. Blaine arched up into his touch when Kurt touched his nipples, gasping aloud.

"Okay?" Kurt whispered, concerned.

"Y-Yeah, baby. Don't stop. Please, don't."

Kurt marveled at the skin beneath his hands, teasing by accident, feeling Blaine's breath hitch and tremble, hips squirming just a little. Kurt gently pushed his arms above his head, fingers dragging down the soft insides. He laced their fingers together, bringing his hands to his lips, kissing each finger, each knuckle, every scrape, callous and scar that was left there. He left a few equally as gentle pecks on his wrists before lying them back down on the bed.

Blaine couldn't breathe, staring up at him with misted eyes, feeling his entire body give over to him. Kurt kneaded his sides, felt his ribs expand and contract under his hands, gently holding his waist. He dipped his head, kissing his stomach.

"Here," Blaine whispered, lifting his hips and shimmying out of his jeans, smiling a little when Kurt helped tug them off.

"Blaine, you don't have to-"

"I told you, every inch of me," he assured. Kurt tried to breathe, knowing Blaine was completely naked underneath him. Vulnerable.

Kurt heard each gasp, each small, barely audible whimper as his hands continued to explore Blaine's body. With each sound he asked if it was alright, if being this close, if touching him was alright. And every time Blaine agreed to let his exploration of his body continue.

His chest clenched when Blaine rolled over, submitting himself further, letting him closer and deeper to his heart, to his _soul_ than he'd ever let anyone. He trembled, just a little, his breaths breaking and erratic just for a moment.

"Blaine?" He whispered, touching his cheek. "Oh god, Blaine, don't cry. What's wrong? What-? I'll stop. We're done, I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, I…it's a lot. It's just so much. My chest feels like it's gonna cave in and if my heart beats any faster I might go into cardiac arrest, but goddammit, Kurt, don't stop touching me. Don't ever stop, please." Kurt leaned down, his chest pressing against his back when he kissed him. Blaine kissed back almost desperately, smiling weakly against his lips. "Please."

Kurt kissed the nape of his neck and his shoulders, pecking across his shoulders and gently massaging the small of his back, fingers butterfly soft. His lashes tickled his skin, body pressed against him. So warm and close.

"Blaine, do you…would you want to…?" He trailed off, trying to find the words and stop blushing.

"Only if you do, baby," he breathed.

"If you do…"

Blaine was unbearably tender, guiding Kurt through everything slowly, helping him with the lubricant and easing him open, gentle and lost in each other. "Are you sure?" Kurt breathed, flushed and slicked with sweat, positioned to enter him, but hesitating. Blaine sat up, pushing himself from the bed to kiss him, tasting skin and sweat.

"All of me, baby. Take me."

Kurt's arms were wrapped around his back, Blaine clinging to his shoulders and gasping against his neck. He shuddered softly in his arms, knees clenching his sides to urge him along.

"Oh god, Blaine, oh my god!" Kurt squeaked, breathless. "Blaine, hmmn."

"Harder, baby, harder. Please." They were tangle of limbs, sweat, saliva and moans, desperately clawing at each other just to stay close. "I love you," Blaine sobbed. Kurt dove for his lips in the dark, wound so tight, trusting him so much.

"I love you too."

Blaine was absolutely undone, curls sweaty and stuck to his forehead, lips parted, chanting Kurt's name over and again.

"Blaine, god, what…oh, I'm gonna, oh!"

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," he breathed, foreheads pressed together, close himself. They were kissing, licking, biting and touching any skin they could reach, bruising and marking each other, Kurt's hips moving so fast he was sure he'd hurt him but neither of them cared.

The air was hot, their skin on fire, dripping and sliding together, friction impossible. Blaine clutched wildly at Kurt's wrist, guiding him to his aching arousal desperately, whimpering when he started pumping in an erratic rhythm.

"Kurt, oh, _KURT! FUCK!" _He released, spilling over his hand, holding Kurt's face while he rode out his overly sensitive body, shuddering.

"Yes!" He choked, lights popping in the dark, heart thudding in his ears.

Everything slowed down again.

The sloppy kisses while they each caught their breaths, laughing for no other reason than to release more energy they didn't have, the gentle pecks that took away each other's tears shed because they simply couldn't be happier. The shower holding each other, cradling faces and squeezing tight was lazy and sleepy, drying each other off and kissing for another ten minutes before Blaine dozed standing up and they decided to get back into bed, curled and laced within each other, noses touching.

Kurt had forgotten, maybe just for tonight, that someone else had tried to touch him as Blaine just had.

And his father's abuse was the furthest thing from Blaine's mind.

They fell asleep smiling at the other.

Not healed, but stronger.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **More soon! Almost done...


	30. Come What May

30

**Come What May**

"So," Kurt said softly, "big day." He chewed his lips, standing in the unfamiliar room. Blaine nodded, wringing his hands. He looked around his new room in Cooper's apartment, swallowing.

"Yeah," he nodded. The boxes were unpacked, pizza eaten and Cooper was on a conference call in his office, one he'd been on for the last hour and a half now. "I mean, it's just on the other side of town," he offered, scratching the back of his neck.

"I know," Kurt smiled, nodding through it. "It just kinda sucks that I can't run down the hall and hold you if I feel like it anymore." Blaine wilted, stepping closer to take his hand.

"If you ever need me you just pick up the phone and I'll be there in a second," he swore. Kurt smiled, pulling him into his arms, hugging him close.

"I know I can. And you're crazy enough to rush on over there if I asked you to," he chuckled. He kissed his cheek, clinging to him for a bit. He sighed when his father honked outside. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

Blaine kissed him deeply. "I'll miss you," he breathed, squeezing his hips. Kurt stroked his cheek, remembering the feel of his face.

"I'll miss you too," he nodded. "Oh! Fuck, I almost forgot. Hang on just a second." He bolted out of the room, leaving Kurt confused and anticipating. Blaine came back a moment later, beaming, and pressed a bouquet into his hands. Kurt beamed, the soft scent of the roses filling his senses. He buried his face in them, incredibly giddy.

Outside, Burt honked again.

"What are these for?" He asked, coy. Blaine grinned and kissed him again.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

Kurt spent the car ride with his face in the bouquet, grinning wildly. Across from him, Burt smiled.

* * *

><p>Blaine looked around his new room, sighing.<p>

He was completely safe here. There was no threat of injury, of being jerked out of bed in the middle of the night, of being afraid to shower in case Dad got the idea to try and drown him. He didn't have to avoid the stairs when someone was home or eat elsewhere just in case his plate got chucked across the room. He didn't have to be scared of a bottle of alcohol or coming home to a drunk after school.

Cooper was going to keep him safe and make everything okay. It was a long time coming, but it's always better late than never.

"So what do you think?" Cooper asked from the doorway, smiling nervously. Blaine turned to him, smiling.

"It's great," he nodded. "Gonna take some getting used to, but…" He grinned at him, sitting him down on his bed. _His_ bed, no chains in sight. Cooper smiled back stepped in and leaning against the dresser.

"Okay, we're gonna have to set up some ground rules," he said. Blaine nodded in agreement. "Alright, in by one on school nights, and on weekends you gotta tell me where you're at every few hours or so. Kurt is welcome any time but please no monkey business with me in the house." Blaine opened his mouth to speak but Cooper cut him off. "Don't act like you two haven't…ya know." He waggled his eyebrows at him. "On that same note, if I have a lady friend coming I will give you at least two hours' notice before bringing said lady friend home. If I do not, feel free to prank me anyway you see fit. And that goes two ways, bud," he warned. Blaine nodded with a laugh.

"I think I can manage that," he assured. The elder Anderson came over and sat beside him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

"Now, as far as getting in trouble at school or elsewhere…" He ventured.

"I behave! For the most part," he amended, glancing up at him. "I haven't gotten into serious trouble since Kurt got hurt. But I think that was justified."

"I agree," Cooper said immediately. "But, just so you know, you get in trouble out there, you're in trouble here, okay? And I will not hesitate to ground you from your boyfriend."

Blaine was grinning. Structure without the threat of violence, this had to be a dream.

"So, you think you're gonna be okay here?" Cooper asked, wringing his hands as if he were nervous. Blaine nodded, giving the place another once over.

"I think I can live with this," he smiled, teasing. "'Least there's no chains on my bed." Cooper winced, looking away from him for a moment. Blaine looked at his hands. "Sorry, it was just a joke."

"I know," he nodded, trying to smile. "Just not something I particularly like thinking about, sport."

"But it's okay now," Blaine assured. "I'm fine. I'm so much better than I was since it happened." Cooper patted his shoulder, smiling a little.

"You're safe here, okay? You're completely and totally safe here, you know that right?" He assured, brows knitted. Blaine nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed, eyes holding doubt. "It's just, uh, gonna take me a minute to get used to it. New place and everything." Cooper nodded again.

"Alright, but you do know that if…if you ever get scared or anything I'm right down the hall," he assured, trying not to baby him or sound like too much of a goon.

"Yeah, I know," he grinned. "I know I'm safe. For the next twenty four years and thirty seven days, anyway." Cooper laughed with his younger brother, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Alright, now, onto the big question," he said in earnest. "When are you asking Kurt to prom?"

Blaine chucked a pillow at him.

* * *

><p>"I'm just saying, Finn asked me months ago."<p>

"Yeah, well, Blaine isn't Finn, thank god," Kurt sighed, holding her arm while they made their way down the hall toward Glee club.

"What's wrong with Finn?"

"Other than him feeding you real meat and you being out sick for three days vomiting? A lot," he remarked. "I love the guy and everything but come on." Rachel scowled.

"Oh whatever, this isn't about Finn and I. This is about your boyfriend not asking you to the prom yet."

"Well maybe I'll ask him. Not against the law, you know," he said pointedly.

He thought about the boutonnieres they'd pin to each other, feeling Blaine wrapped in a suit holding him and dancing with him without a care, prying eyes be damned. He couldn't see them anyway, and if anyone tried to mess with them Blaine would break their jaw rather. The warm lights on his face, the stupid music they'd sing to each other. They'd end up sweaty and breathless, holding each other and rocking back and forth on a dance floor. They'd be in their own world with each other. It'd be wonderful. It'd be perfect, even if Blaine got into a fight or if people made comments. It'd be worth the end of the night when they got those suits off each other and… Oh yes, it'd be perfect.

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"I'm just saying," she huffed.

"And _I'm _just saying Blaine-"

"Blaine what?" He said, popping from around the corner. Kurt grinned, elbowing Rachel when she made a move to speak.

"Nothin'," he assured, beaming. He let go of Rachel's arms and transferred to his. "So, how's Cooper's place been?"

"Great," he nodded, smiling at him. "I think everything's kind of settled down."

"So we can be relatively normal teenagers that do normal teenage things?" Kurt smiled. Blaine chuckled.

"Yes, I think we can," he nodded. Kurt beamed.

"Good."

Blaine looked at him for a moment, watching him carefully, pupils dilating a little. He was wearing those jeans he liked, his shirt dipping around his neckline to reveal his collarbone and nearly tugged over his shoulder. His neck was so open, slender and beautiful. More than anything at this moment he wanted to sink his lips right into his flesh. He swallowed, stopping in the hall with a wry smile, tugging him into a nearby crevice in front of a custodial closet.

He put his hands on his waist, gripping him tight and holding him close. Kurt responded immediately, fingers in his curls, humming in his throat before realizing what they were doing. He pulled away, hand on Blaine's chest to keep him back.

"Blaine, what are you doing? We need to get to Glee club!" He exclaimed, flushed. Blaine whined, slightly breathless, pecking his neck.

"But you're _so hot_. Glee club isn't going anywhere…" He grinned. Kurt nodded, eyes fluttering shut at the sensations. He shook his head again, clearing it.

"Blaine Devon Anderson, we can't have a hot make-out session right here!" He hissed. Blaine brushed their noses together and pouted.

"Why not?"

"We're gonna get caught!" He breathed, ignoring the rush he got when he said it. Blaine, however, didn't.

"Fine, you keep watch," he teased. Kurt laughed, breaking off into a quiet coo when he kissed his neck again.

"You're so funny. I'm serious!" He exclaimed, but his smile and his body language saying much different.

"No, you just like playing hard to get," Blaine giggled, putting a swift kiss on his lips.

"I'll make you a deal, then."

"Ooh, blackmail. I've made you so devious, baby," he grinned. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'll blow off Glee club so you can blow me, if you go to prom with me," he winked. Blaine groaned.

"Prom? It's so lame!" He whined. Kurt pursed his lips.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad. It'll be fun," he reasoned. "I was so afraid for the longest time that I'd never find someone to go with and now I have you." Blaine smiled, watching him, seeing the passion in his expression that he didn't let spill into his words.

"I am crazy about you," he said, gently cradling his face.

"So…Is that a yes?" Kurt ventured, coy.

"Yes, I'll go to prom with you," he agreed, humming when Kurt kissed him.

Everything may not have been completely perfect. They still had school and Blaine still got into trouble every now and again. But he was his boy. His soon-to-be tattooed, pierced, brawling boy that smelled like bubblegum and leather. His Blaine.

And that was perfect.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

An old man sits beside another on a park bench. The pale sun dances off his wrinkled skin, hair fluttering a little in the breeze. Clouded cerulean eyes seemed to look at the park before him but it went unseen.

A hand clasps over his and he smiles. He's never laid eyes on this man seated next to him, not in the forty-two years they've been married.

But he loves him just as fiercely as the day he told him so.

He takes a deep breath and smiles at the kiss placed on his cheek.

It was such a nice day.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thank you all so, so much for being so supportive and patient throughout this whole thing. You are all wonderful, beautiful people and I love each and every one of you. The readers, the reviewers, the followers, the favorite-ers, every single one of you are important to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you for this experience and God bless! 3


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